UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA 


DEPARTMENT  OF  EDUCATION 


GIFT  OF  THE   PUBLISHER 
No.     jZffS  Received       /  tf  O  5~ 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

GIFT    OF 

~«7"// 

Class 


OF  ENGLISH  TEXTS 
* 

GENERAL  EDITOR 

HENRY   VAN   DYKE 


THE   GATEWAY   SERIES* 
HENRY  VAN   DYKE,  GENERAL  EDITOR. 

SHAKESPEARE'S  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE.     Professor  Felix  E. 

Schelling,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 
SHAKESPEARE'S   JULIUS   C^SAR.     Dr.  Hamilton  W.  Mabie, 

"The  Outlook." 

SHAKESPEARE'S  MACBETH.    Professor  T.  M.  Parrott,  Prince- 
ton University. 
MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS.     Professor  Mary  A.  Jordan,  Smith 

College. 
ADDISON'S  SIR   ROGER  DE  COVERLEY  PAPERS.     Professor 

C.  T.  Winchester,  Wesleyan  University. 
GOLDSMITH'S  VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD.     Professor  James  A. 

Tufts,  Phillips  Exeter  Academy. 
BURKE'S    SPEECH   ON     CONCILIATION.     Professor  William 

MacDonald,  Brown  University. 
COLERIDGE'S  THE  ANCIENT   MARINER.      Professor  George 

E.  Woodberry,  Columbia  University. 
SCOTT'S    IVANHOE.      Professor    Francis    H.    Stoddard,   New 

York  University. 
SCOTT'S  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE.     Professor  R.  M.  Alden,  Leland 

Stanford  Jr.  University. 
IRVING'S   LIFE  OF   GOLDSMITH.      Professor  Martin  Wright 

Sampson,  Indiana  University. 
MACAULAY'S    MILTON.      Rev.   E.   L.  Gulick,  Lawrenceville 

School. 
MACAULAY'S   ADDISON.     Professor  Charles  F.  McClumpha, 

University  of  Minnesota. 

MACAULAY'S  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.    Professor  J.  S.  Clark,  North- 
western University. 

CARLYLE'S  ESSAY  ON  BURNS.    Professor  Edwin  Mims,  Trin- 
ity College,  North  Carolina. 
GEORGE  ELIOT'S  SILAS  MARNER.     Professor  W.  L.  Cross, 

Yale  University. 
TENNYSON'S    PRINCESS.       Professor    Katharine    Lee    Bates, 

Wellesley  College. 
TENNYSON'S    GARETH    AND    LYNETTE,    LANCELOT    AND 

ELAINE,  and  THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR.     Henry  van 

Dyke. 


3  V-3M  '/£* 


FACSIMILE  OF  MILTON'S  Dis< 


)ED  MS.      LYCIDAS,  142-151. 


GATEWAY   SERIES 


MILTON'S 


MINOR     POEMS 


EDITED   BY 

MARY   A.  JORDAN,  A.M. 

PROFESSOR    OF    ENGLISH,     SMITH    COLLEGE 


NEW  YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN    BOOK    COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1904,  BY 
AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY. 

ENTERED  AT  STATIONERS'  HALL,  LONDON. 


MILTON  S   MINOR  POEMS. 
W.   P.    I 


PREFACE    BY   THE   GENERAL 
EDITOR 

THIS  series  of  books  aims,  first,  to  give  the  English 
texts  required  for  entrance  to  college  in  a  form  which 
shall  make  them  clear,  interesting,  and  helpful  to  those 
who  are  beginning  the  study  of  literature  ;  and,  second, 
to  supply  the  knowledge  which  the  student  needs  to 
pass  the  entrance  examination.  For  these  two  reasons 
it  is  called  The  Gateway  Series. 

The  poems,  plays,  essays,  and  stories  in  these  small 
volumes  are  treated,  first  of  all,  as  works  of  literature, 
which  were  written  to  be  read  and  enjoyed,  not  to  be 
parsed  and  scanned  and  pulled  to  pieces.  A  short  life 
of  the  author  is  given,  and  a  portrait,  in  order  to  help 
the  student  to  know  the  real  person  who  wrote  the 
book.  The  introduction  tells  what  it  is  about,  and 
how  it  was  written,  and  where  the  author  got  the  idea, 
and  what  it  means.  The  notes  at  the  foot  of  the  page 
are  simply  to  give  the  sense  of  the  hard  words  so  that 
the  student  can  read  straight  on  without  turning  to  a 
dictionary.  The  other  notes,  at  the  end  of  the  book, 
explain  difficulties  and  allusions  and  fine  points. 

2.2f844 


6  Preface  by  the  General  Editor 

The  editors  are  chosen  because  of  their  thorough 
training  and  special  fitness  to  deal  with  the  books 
committed  to  them,  and  because  they  agree  with  this 
idea  of  what  a  Gateway  Series  ought  to  be.  They 
express,  in  each  case,  their  own  views  of  the  books 
which  they  edit.  Simplicity,  thoroughness,  shortness, 
and  clearness,  —  these,  we  hope,  will  be  the  marks  of 
the  series. 

HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 


PREFACE 

DOCTOR  HENRY  VAN  DYKE,  the  editor-in-chief  of  the 
Gateway  Series,  has  recently  put  into  suggestive  and 
trenchant  words  the  two  principal  ends  which  this 
volume  tries  to  secure  for  the  student  of  English.  He 
says  to  the  young  friend  going  away  from  home  to  get 
an  education  :  "  A  good  many  years  ago  I  did  what  you 
are  doing  now.  Since  then  things  have  changed  a 
little  in  our  American  schools  and  colleges.  The  term 
opens  later  in  the  fall  and  closes  earlier  in  the  summer. 
Students'  rooms  are  finer  and  warmer.  '  Entrance  re- 
quirements '  are  larger  and  stiffen  Tallow  candles 
have  gone  out,  electric  lights  have  come  in,  and  even 
kerosene  oil  has  been  refined  to  astral  brilliancy.  You 
are  going  to  have  more  teachers,  more  elective  courses, 
more  expenses,  more  athletic  trainers,  more  '  modern 
advantages,'  including  probably  more  kinds  of  food 
than  I  had.  But,  after  all,  these  changes  do  not  make 
any  real  difference  in  the  meaning  of  the  fact  that  you 
are  going  away  from  home  to  get  an  education.  Your 
outfit  may  be  better  than  mine,  and  the  road  may  be 
a  bit  smoother,  but  you  are  starting  on  the  same  jour- 
ney, and  you  have  to  face  the  same  question,  What 
goal  are  you  going  to  make  for,  and  how  are  you  going 
to  travel,  straight  or  crooked  ?  To  answer  this  ques- 

7 


8  Preface 

tion  rightly,  you  must,  first  of  all,  remember  that  you 
are  now  a  member  of  a  privileged  class.  .  .  . 

"  Your  studies  .  .  .  will  be  of  two  kinds :  those  that 
you  like  and  those  that  you  dislike.  Use  the  former 
to  develop  your  natural  gifts,  and  the  latter  to  correct 
your  natural  defects.  There  is  a  great  difference  in 
minds.  Some  are  first-class,  some  are  second-class, 
and  so  on.  You  can  never  tell  what  kind  of  a  mind 
you  have  unless  you  test  it  thoroughly  by  hard  work." 

This  volume  has  been  prepared  in  the  hope  that  it 
may  help  to  fit  young  students  for  membership  in  a 
privileged  class  by  supplying  the  hard  work  necessary 
to  test  and  train  their  minds,  and  by  affording  the 
opportunity  for  both  kinds  of  study,  —  that  which 
develops  natural  gifts  as  well  as  that  which  corrects 
natural  defects.  For  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that 
any  young  reader  will  like  all  of  Milton.  It  is  greatly 
to  be  deplored  if  the  young  student  likes  none  of  Mil- 
ton. Some  effort  is  clearly  necessary  to  secure  justice 
for  both  aspects  of  Milton's  work,  —  the  beautiful  and 
the  imposing. 

To  this  end,  the  explanatory  notes  and  the  refer- 
ences to  such  reading  as  Milton  is  known  to  have  done 
have  been  made  as  full  as  the  space  at  hand  would 
permit.  For  some  teachers  and  for  many  students 
such  a  volume  as  this  must  take  the  place  of  diction- 
aries and  classic  authors.  A  definite  effort  has  been 
made  to  direct  the  reader's  attention  to  the  structure 
of  Milton's  verse  and  to  the  characteristics  and  sources 


Preface  9 

of  his  diction  as  well  as  to  his  habits  of  composition. 
It  is  believed  that  such  study  will  increase  the  reader's 
pleasure  in  the  work  and  the  worker,  and  lead  to  deeper 
reverence  for  genius  by  making  clearer  its  working, 
whether  its  laws  and  explanation  are  fully  attained  or 
not.  No  good  teacher  need  fear  to  disgust  the  student 
worth  teaching  by  laying  bare  the  ways  of  inspiration 
or  by  supplying  the  detail  necessary  for  full  acquaint- 
ance with  the  subject  studied.  The  love  of  knowledge 
that  rejects  the  labour  of  knowing  is  not  worth  the 
name.  Aristotle  and  the  writer  of  Ecdesiastes  supple- 
ment each  other  and  say  the  last  word  on  education 
even  to  experts  in  child  study  and  the  management  of 
the  elective  system.  The  one  :  "  All  men  by  nature  are 
actuated  with  the  desire  of  knowledge."  The  other: 
"  And  I  gave  my  heart  to  seek  and  search  out  by  wis- 
dom concerning  all  things  that  are  done  under  heaven : 
this  sore  travail  hath  God  given  to  the  sons  of  man  to 
be  exercised  therewith." 

Obligation  to  previous  students  of  Milton's  life  and 
works  is  a  matter  of  course.  The  writer  of  this  book 
has  consulted  them  freely;  used  them,  she  believes, 
not  slavishly,  and  she  now  records  her  gratitude  to 
them  for  their  labours  of  love  and  skill.  A  few  passages 
overlooked  by  them  or  left  in  doubt  she  has  been  able 
to  make  clear. 

MARY  A.  JORDAN. 

SMITH  COLLEGE, 
NORTHAMPTON,  MASS, 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  : 

I.    Life  of  Milton 1 1 

II.     L' Allegro,  II  Penseroso 40 

III.     Arcades 42 

IV.    Comus 47 

V.    An  Expostulation  with  Inigo  Jones        ...  49 

VI.     Lycidas 53 

VII.    The  Story  of  the  Text 56 

MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS: 

L'Allegro 65 

II  Penseroso     .                 71 

Arcades   ..........  78 

Comus 83 

Lycidas 126 

NOTES 135 


INTRODUCTION 

I.  LIFE  OF  MILTON 

Edmund  Spenser  had  been  ten  years  dead  and  William 
Shakespeare  had  still  about  eight  years  longer  to  live 
when  Joh»  Milton  was  born.  The  day  was  the  Qth  of 
December,  1608,  and  the  place  was  his  father's  house, 
known  as  "The  Spread  Eagle,"  in  Bread  Street,  Cheap- 
side,  near  St.  Paul's,  London.  The  maiden  name  of 
Milton's  mother  was  Sarah  Jeffrey.  She  seems  to  have 
had  very  little  direct  influence  upon  the  poet's  literary 
development,  his  account  of  her  being  that  she  was  "  a 
most  excellent  mother  and  particularly  known  for  her 
chanties  through  the  neighbourhood."  To  his  father,  at 
every  opportunity,  Milton  pays  the  tribute  of  affectionate 
gratitude  and  enthusiastic  respect.  The  character  of  this 
father  obviously  deserved  all  that  the  son's  eloquence 
could  commemorate.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  a  man 
who  had  made  his  own  way  in  London  to  "  a  plentiful 
estate,"  after  he  had  been  disinherited  by  his  father, 
Richard  Milton,  one  of  the  stanchest  of  Oxfordshire 
Roman  Catholics,  for  becoming  a  Protestant.  How  this 
commercial  success  was  accomplished  is  not  known  in 
detail ;  for  it  was  not  until  February,  1599-1600,  when  he 

ii 


12  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

was  thirty-seven  years  old,  and  married  to  a  wife  of  about 
twenty-eight,  that  he  was  duly  qualified  as  a  member  of 
the  Scriveners'  Company  and  that  he  set  up  house  and 
shop  in  Bread  Street.  At  this  time,  a  scrivener  was 
much  more  than  a  mere  scribe  or  legal  copyist.  He  was 
a  notary,  one  who  did  some  of  the  less  important  work  of 
an  attorney,  in  drawing  up  wills,  bonds,  mortgages,  in 
lending  money  and  placing  investments.  Furthermore, 
this  particular  scrivener  was  a  thoughtful  and  cultivated 
man,  with  a  talent  for  music  which  gave  him  standing 
among  the  composers  of  his  time.  Certain  aspects  of 
his  character  and  his  relation  to  his  son  are  best  set  forth 
in  that  son's  own  words  : 

"  My  father  destined  me  while  yet  a  child  to  the  study 
of  polite  literature,  which  I  embraced  with  such  avidity 
that  from  the  twelfth  year  of  my  age  I  hardly  ever  retired 
to  rest  from  my  studies  till  midnight,  which  was  the  first 
source  of  injury  to  my  eyes,  to  the  natural  weakness  of 
which  were  added  frequent  headaches ;  all  of  which  not 
retarding  my  eagerness  after  knowledge,  he  took  care  to 
have  me  instructed  daily  both  at  school  and  by  other 
masters  at  home." 

The  first  of  John  Milton's  teachers  was  Thomas  Young, 
a  Puritan  clergyman,  of  whom,  in  one  of  his  Latin  poems, 
Milton  says  that  this  master  is  dearer  to  him  than  was 
Socrates  to  Alcibiades,  Aristotle  to  Alexander,  or  Chiron 
to  Achilles.  In  his  twelfth  year  he  was  sent  as  a  day- 
scholar  to  St.  Paul's  School,  near  his  father's  home,  but 
Young  still  continued  to  teach  him.  This  prolonged 


Introduction  13 

service  on  the  part  of  Young  may  have  served  as  a  re- 
lief to  the  discipline  supplied  by  the  master  of  St.  Paul's, 
Alexander  Gill,  who  is  described  as  "  an  ingeniose  person, 
notwithstanding  his  humours,  particularly  his  whipping 
fits."  Of  the  master's  son,  another  Alexander  Gill,  and 
usher  in  the  school,  Milton  became  an  intimate  friend. 
During  the  four  or  five  years  of  his  study  at  this  time  of 
his  life,  he  made  good  progress  in  Greek  and  Latin, 
learned  some  Hebrew  and,  by  his  father's  advice,  studied 
French  and  Italian.  His  own  account  is  :  "  When  I  had 
acquired  various  tongues,  and  also  some  not  insignificant 
taste  for  the  sweetness  of  philosophy,  he  sent  me  to 
Cambridge."  Besides  his  regular  schooling,  the  young 
poet  was  trained  by  books  and  reading  to  a  more  liberal 
culture.  The  printer,  Humphrey  Lowndes,  who  also 
lived  in  Bread  Street,  lent  him  books  of  poetry,  among 
them  Spenser,  and  Du  Bartas,  translated  by  Sylvester. 
Another  important  influence  in  Milton's  life  at  St.  Paul's 
was  his  friendship  with  the  young  Italian,  Charles 
Diodati,  so  often  and  so  feelingly  characterized  in  his 
letters  and  in  his  Latin  Elegia  Prima,  Sexta,  and  Epi- 
taphium  Damonis.  While  he  was  still  a  scholar  in  St. 
Paul's,  his  sister  Anne,  a  year  or  two  older  than  himself, 
married,  in  1624,  Mr.  Edward  Phillips,  second  clerk  in  the 
Crown  office  in  Chancery,  leaving  John  and  his  younger 
brother,  Christopher,  the  only  children  at  home  in  Bread 
Street.  To  the  year  of  his  sister's  marriage  belong  the 
earliest  preserved  specimens  of  John  Milton's  verse.  They 
are  Paraphrases  on  Psalms  cxiv  and  cxxxvi.  This  work, 


14  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

mechanical  as  it  may  seem  to  readers  out  of  sympathy 
with  the  type  of  literature  it  represents,  still  gives  clear 
evidence  to  the  close  observer  of  the  peculiar  genius  of 
Milton,  of  his  habits  of  life  and  of  mind,  and  of  that 
characteristic  result  of  them  all,  his  culture.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  before  he  went  to  Cambridge  he  had 
probably  "  ceaselessly  studied  "  and  "  insatiably  read  " 
the  books  of  "  his  day,"  what  we  now  call  contemporary 
literature ;  Shakespeare's  Coriolanus,  Sonnets,  and  Tempest, 
Chapman's  Iliad,  J.  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherdess,  the 
King  James  Version  of  the  Bible,  Bacon's  Novum  Or- 
ganum,  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  and  the  First 
Folio  of  Shakespeare.  Drummond,  Drayton,  and  Wither 
had  written  poetry  commanding  attention,  and  the  year 
after  Milton  entered  college,  the  final  form  of  Bacon's 
Essays  appeared.  All  this  justifies  Edmond  Sche' rer's  asser- 
tion that  "  he  belongs  at  once  to  the  Renaissance  and  to 
Puritanism.  The  whole  character  of  his  work  is  explained 
by  this  double  filiation.  He  is  a  poet,  not  of  the  great 
creative  age,  but  of  that  age's  morrow,  —  a  morrow  still 
possessed  of  spontaneity  and  conviction.  Yet  he  is  a 
didactic  and  theological  poet,  that  is  to  say,  the  only 
kind  of  poet  which  it  was  possible  for  an  English  republi- 
can of  the  seventeenth  century  to  be.  ...  But  also  what 
a  transition  was  that  from  the  Renaissance  to  Puritanism  ! 
And  yet  the  one  sprang  from  the  other,  for  Puritanism  is 
but  Protestantism  in  an  acute  form,  and  Protestantism 
itself  is  but  the  Renaissance  carried  into  the  sphere  of 
religion  and  theology." 


Introduction  15 

On  the  1 2th  of  February,  1624-5,  Milton  was  enrolled 
as  a  Lesser  Pensioner  on  the  books  of  Christ  College, 
Cambridge.  A  pensioner  in  the  University  of  Cambridge 
is  one  who  pays  for  his  commons  and  so  corresponds  to 
a  commoner  at  Oxford.  He  was  matriculated  in  the 
University,  April  9,  1625.  Here  he  lived  and  studied, 
with  frequent  absences  in  vacation  and  at  other  times,  for 
seven  years.  His  tutor  to  whom  he  was  assigned  was  the 
Reverend  William  Chappell,  later  Bishop  of  Cork  and 
Ross.  Milton  got  on  so  ill  with  this  tutor  that  the 
Master  of  the  College,  Dr.  Thomas  Bainbridge,  had  to 
interfere.  Justice  seems  to  have  been  done  with  an  even 
hand,  for  Milton  was  sent,  or  withdrawn,  from  college 
in  circumstances  equivalent  to  rustication ;  but  he  was 
allowed  to  return,  and  on  his  return  was  transferred  to 
another  tutor,  Mr.  Nathaniel  Tovey.  When  Christopher 
Milton  joined  his  brother  at  Christ's  in  1630-1,  it  was  to 
Tovey  that  he  was  assigned.  Milton  took  his  bachelor's 
degree  at  the  regular  time  in  1628-9,  and  the  master's 
degree  in  July,  1632.  Still  this  episode  was  not  without 
its  inconveniences  ;  for  in  later  times  of  political  and  per- 
sonal controversy,  it  gave  some  show  of  occasion  for  the 
charge  that  he  had  been  "  vomited  out  "  of  the  University 
for  unbecoming  conduct  and  indecorous  life.  Milton's 
treatment  of  the  charge  was  as  characteristic  as  the  whole 
episode  doubtless  was. 

"  It  hath  given  me  an  apt  occasion  to  acknowledge 
publicly  with  all  grateful  mind  the  more  than  ordinary 
favour  and  respect  which  I  found,  above  any  of  my 


1 6  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

equals,  at  the  hands  of  those  courteous  and  learned  men, 
the  Fellows  of  the  College  wherein  I  spent  some  years, 
who,  at  my  parting,  after  I  had  taken  two  degrees,  as  the 
manner  is,  signified  many  ways  how  much  better  it  would 
content  them  if  I  would  stay,  as  by  many  letters  full  of 
kindness  and  loving  respect,  both  before  that  time  and 
long  after,  I  was  assured  of  their  singular  good  affection 
toward  me.  .  .  .  My  father  sent  me  to  Cambridge; 
there  I  devoted  myself  for  a  space  of  seven  years  to  the 
literature  and  arts  usually  taught,  free  from  all  reproach, 
and  approved  of  by  all  good  men,  as  far  as  the  degree 
of  Master,  as  it  is  termed." 

The  simple  truth  is  that  Milton  did  not  particularly 
enjoy  "  college."  He  does  not  look  back  to  this  time  of 
his  life  with  any  great  affection.  He  was  refined  in  his 
tastes,  and  studious  by  choice.  The  rougher  men  nick- 
named him  "The  Lady,"  —  quite  as  much,  probably,  for 
his  haughty  refinement  as  for  his  delicate  beauty.  An- 
thony Wood  says  that  he  "  performed  the  collegiate  and 
academical  exercises  to  the  admiration  of  all,  and  was 
esteemed  to  be  a  virtuous  and  sober  person,  yet  not  to 
be  ignorant  of  his  own  parts."  College  popularity  based 
on  the  trait  suggested  by  the  last  clause  of  Wood's  char- 
acterization would  certainly  be  a  plant  of  slow  growth,  in 
our  day,  no  less  than  in  Milton's.  None  the  less,  when 
Milton  signed  the  Articles  of  Religion  on  the  occasion 
of  his  receiving  the  Master's  degree,  his  name  heads  the 
list  of  those  from  Christ's  College.  And  there  were  stu- 
dents of  talent  and  worth  in  Cambridge  who  must  have 


Introduction  17 

appreciated  the  poet's  genius  whether  they  enjoyed  his 
manners  or  not.  Here  were  Edward  King,  whom 
Milton  celebrated  as  Lycidas  ;  the  satirical  poet,  John 
Cleveland;  Henry  More,  the  Platonist;  Jeremy  Taylor, 
pauper  scholar,  and  "  golden  "  writer ;  Edmund  Waller, 
"nursed  in  parliaments";  quaint  Thomas  Fuller,  and 
Thomas  Randolph,  earlier  employer  of  Milton's  famous 
phrase,  "  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair."  The  list  of 
Latin  and  English  "  pieces  "  produced  by  Milton  during 
his  stay  at  Cambridge  is  long,  and  full  of  interest  to  the 
student.  Still  more  than  the  titles,  the  pieces  themselves 
supply  much  material  for  the  history  of  Milton's  opinions 
and  some  evidence  in  regard  to  facts  of  his  biography. 
Most  of  those  remained  in  manuscript;  only  two  pro- 
ductions finding  their  way  into  print  at  the  time.  The 
Naturam  non  pati  Senium  was  printed  for  academic 
purposes.  The  lines  On  Shakespeare  appeared  anony- 
mously in  the  Second  Folio  of  Shakespeare,  published  in 
1632.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  wholly  deserved  attention 
given  to  the  English  poems  should  seem  to  have  diverted 
an  equally  well  merited  interest  from  the, Latin  composi- 
tions in  prose  and  verse.  At  the  risk,  however,  of  still 
further  emphasizing  this  inequity,  the  young  reader's  love 
and  admiration  are  "bespoke"  for  the  type  of  scholar 
who  expressed  his  own  ideals  and  "joy  of  living  "  in  such 
poems  as  these : 


MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  - 


1 8  Milton's  Minor  Poems 


AN    EPITAPH     ON    THE  ADMIRABLE    DRAMATIC     POET 
W.   SHAKESPEARE 

What  needs  my  Shakespeare  for  his  honoured  bones 

The  labour  of  an  age  in  piled  stones  ? 

Or  that  his  hallowed  reliques  should  be  hid 

Under  a  star-ypointing  pyramid  ? 

Dear  son  of  memory,  great  heir  of  fame, 

What  needst  thou  such  weak  witness  of  thy  name  ? 

Thou  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment 

Hast  built  thyself  a  livelong  monument. 

For  whilst  to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavouring  art 

Thy  easy  numbers  flow,  and  that  each  heart 

Hath  from  the  leaves  of  thy  unvalued  book 

Those  Delphic  lines  with  deep  impression  took, 

Then  thou,  our  fancy  of  itself  bereaving, 

Dost  make  us  marble  with  too  much  conceiving  ; 

And  so  sepulchred  in  such  pomp  dost  lie 

That  kings  for  such  a  tomb  would  wish  to  die. 


ON  HIS   BEING   ARRIVED  TO   THE  AGE  OF  TWENTY-THREE 

How  soon  hath  Time,  the  subtle  thief  of  youth, 
Stolen  on  his  wing  my  three-and-twentieth  year ! 
My  hasting  days  fly  on  with  full  career, 
But  my  late  spring  no  bud  or  blossom  shew'th. 
Perhaps  my  semblance  might  deceive  the  truth 
That  I  to  manhood  am  arrived  so  near  ; 
And  inward  ripeness  doth  much  less  appear, 
That  some  more  timely-happy  spirits  indu'th. 
Yet,  be  it  less  or  more,  or  soon  or  slow, 
It  shall  be  still  in  strictest  measure  even 


Introduction  19 

To  that  same  lot,  however  mean  or  high, 

Toward  which  Time  leads  me,  and  the  will  of  Heaven. 

All  is,  if  I  have  grace  to  use  it  so, 

As  ever  in  my  great  Taskmaster's  eye. 

Other  well-known  English  poems  of  this  period  are 
On  the  Death  of  a  Fair  Infant  (1626),  At  a  Vacation 
.Exercise  (1628),  On  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity 
(1629),  On  the  University  Carrier  (1630). 

From  the  evidence  of  letters  and  statements  bearing 
directly  and  indirectly  on  the  subject,  it  is  well  known 
that  Milton's  father  originally  intended  him  for  the 
church.  But  the  great  changes  that  had  taken  place  in 
the  political  condition  of  England  during  his  stay  at 
Cambridge,  where  he  was  always  an  alert  and  sensitive 
observer  of  contemporary  events,  had  evidently  reinforced 
"an  inward  prompting"  which,  wherever  it  was  to  carry 
him,  forbade  his  taking  orders  in  the  church  of  England. 

To  Horton,  a  small  village  of  Buckinghamshire,  near 
Windsor  and  twenty  miles  from  London,  Milton's  father 
had  gone  to  live  when  he  retired  from  business,  and  here 
Milton  spent  five  years  and  eight  months  in  study  and 
literary  work.  His  account  is,  "  I  was  wholly  intent, 
through  a  period  of  absolute  leisure,  on  a  steady  perusal 
of  the  Greek  and  Latin  writers,  but  still  so  that  occasion- 
ally I  exchanged  the  country  for  the  city,  either  for  the 
purpose  of  buying  books,  or  for  that  of  learning  anything 
new  in  Mathematics  or  in  Music,  in  which  I  then  took 
delight."  Milton's  taste  for  music  was  one  that  he  shared 
with  his  father  and  it  must  have  strengthened  the  uncom- 


20  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

mon  sympathy  between  them.  Possibly,  even,  it  may 
have  helped  the  older  man  to  withstand  his  own  wistful 
impatience  to  see  his  son  give  some  fruit  of  his  genius, 
instead  of  so  prolonging  the  time  of  "ripening."  To 
the  influences  of  this  time  may  not  improbably  be  added 
the  natural  grief  of  a  sensitive  young  man  over  the  death 
of  a  good  mother.  A  plain  slab  in  the  floor  of  the  Hor- 
ton  Parish  Church  reads :  "  Heare  lyeth  the  Body  of 
Sara  Milton,  the  wife  of  John  Milton,  who  died  the  3rd 
of  April,  1637."  About  the  same  time  died  Edward  King, 
fellow  of  Milton's  college  in  Cambridge.  The  first-fruits 
of  Milton's  peculiar  genius  also  belong  to  this  time.  For 
here  Masson  places  the  best  of  what  are  called  Milton's 
minor  poems.  ^  These  are  :  L?  Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  Ar- 
cades, At  a  Solemn  Music,  On  Time,  Upon  the  Circum- 
cision, Comus,  Lycidas. 

Nor  was  the  scholarship  of  Milton  unrecognized.  The 
laborious  days  and  reading  nights  of  this  terrible  worker 
were  making  him  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of  his 
time.  Milton  was  admitted  to  the  master's  degree  at 
Oxford  in  1635. 

But  Milton  had  long  dreamed  of  travel.  His  thoughts 
turned  to  the  centres  of  historic  and  artistic  influence  on 
the  Continent.  In  April,  1638,  he  gained  his  father's 
somewhat  reluctant  consent  to  his  plans. 

He  left  his  father  at  Horton  in  the  companionship  of 
his  younger  son,  Christopher  Milton,  and  his  newly 
wedded  wife,  Thomasine  Webber,  of  London.  Well  fur- 
nished with  letters  of  introduction  among  which  was  one 


Introduction  21 

from  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Milton,  accompanied  by  a  man- 
servant, went  to  Paris.  Here  through  the  attention  of 
Lord  Scudamore,  the  English  ambassador  to  Louis  XIII, 
he  met  the  learned  jurist  Hugo  Grotius,  then  living 
in  Paris  as  ambassador  from  Sweden.  Through  Nice, 
Leghorn,  and  Pisa,  Milton  made  his  way  to  Florence, 
where  he  stayed  about  two  months,  and  met,  greatly 
to  his  satisfaction,  the  wits  and  scholars  of  the  city,  be- 
sides enjoying  the  beauties  and  associations  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood. He  speaks  of  receiving  courtesies  that  he  can 
never  forget  from  Jacopo  Gaddi,  Carlo  Dati,  Pietro 
Friscobaldo,  Agostino  Coltellini,  Benedetto  Buommattei, 
Valerio  Chimentelli,  and  Antonio  Francini.  He  saw, 
too,  "  the  famous  Galileo,  grown  old,  a  prisoner  to  the 
Inquisition  for  thinking  in  Astronomy  otherwise  than  the 
Franciscan  and  Dominican  licensers  thought."  A  similar 
experience  of  gratifying  attentions  from  citizens  of  note 
and  consideration  met  him  in  Rome.  He  attended  a 
concert  in  the  palace  of  Cardinal  Francesco  Barberini 
and  heard  Leonora  Baroni  sing.  He  was  made  free  of 
the  literary  clubs,  and  in  Naples  met  Giovanni  Battista 
Manso,  full  of  years  and  honour.  This  friend  of  Tasso 
was  most  gracious  to  Milton,  whose  sense  of  indebtedness 
expressed  itself  in  a  Latin  poem.  Manso  replied  by  the 
gift  of  two  engraved  goblets  and  a  Latin  epigram.  Milton 
said  of  their  intercourse  :  "  I  experienced  from  him  as 
long  as  I  remained  there,  the  most  friendly  attentions. 
He  accompanied  me  to  the  various  parts  of  the  city,  and 
took  me  over  the  Viceroy's  palace,  and  came  more  than 


22  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

once  to  my  lodgings  to  visit  me.  At  my  departure  he 
made  earnest  excuses  to  me  for  not  having  been  able  to 
show  me  the  further  attentions  which  he  desired  in  that 
city,  on  account  of  my  unwillingness  to  conceal  my  re- 
ligious sentiments." 

In  Naples  "the  sad  news  of  civil  war"  reached  him, 
and  he  resolved  to  return  to  England,  "  inasmuch,"  he 
says,  "  as  I  thought  it  base  to  be  travelling  at  my  ease 
for  intellectual  culture  while  my  fellow  countrymen  at 
home  were  fighting  for  liberty."  This  estimate  of  the 
critical  condition  of  affairs  in  England  was  not  strictly 
accurate,  as  doubtless  Milton  soon  found  out,  for  he 
made  his  journey  in  the  fashion  and  pace  of  a  philosopher 
or  poet  rather  than  in  that  of  the  soldier  or  anxious  pa- 
triot. He  revisited  Rome  and  Florence  and  sought  out 
the  Protestants  of  Geneva.  He  held  daily  intercourse 
with  Dr.  Jean  Diodati,  who  was  not  only  an  eminent 
theologian,  but  commended  to  Milton  as  the  uncle  of  his 
friend,  Charles  Diodati.  It  was  August,  1639,  before 
he  reached  England.  The  literary  result  of  this  journey 
took  the  immediate  form  of  Latin  familiar  epistles,  Latin 
poems,  and  Italian  sonnets.  During  his  journeying  Milton 
had  learned  the  painful  fact  of  the  death  of  his  close 
friend,  Charles  Diodati.  His  return  to  Horton  made 
the  details  of  his  bereavement  so  sadly  familiar  to  him 
that  only  the  foreign  tongue  in  which  it  is  written  makes 
the  Epitaphium  Damonis  second  to  Lycidas  as  an  ex- 
pression of  noble  grief.  As  an  outburst  of  personal  regret 
even  the  Latin  barrier  cannot  conceal  its  superiority. 


Introduction  23 

Towards  the  close  of  1639  Milton  went  into  lodgings 
in  London.  Here  he  hoped  for  studious  leisure  in  which 
to  produce  a  great  English  poem.  But  the  sympathy 
of  the  English  Puritans  with  the  Scottish  opposition  to 
Episcopacy,  the  contest  of  the  Long  Parliament  with 
Charles  I,  and  Milton's  lifelong  sense  of  duty  combined 
to  make  an  atmosphere  in  which  the  poet's  singing  robes 
and  garland  seemed  hopelessly  out  of  place.  With  the 
breaking  out  of  civil  war  in  1642,  Milton  had  definitely 
committed  himself  to  the  Parliament  side.  But  a  short 
list  of  dates  and  a  brief  statement  of  a  single  decision  do 
scant  justice  to  the  complexity  of  Milton's  character  or 
the  multiplicity  of  his  interests.  His  effort  to  live  satis- 
factorily in  Fleet  Street  lodgings  had  been  given  up  after 
a  brief  trial.  He  moved  to  a  detached  house  with  a  gar- 
den, in  Aldersgate  Street,  where  he  could  have  more  of 
what  were  almost  necessities  to  him,  then  and  always,  — 
privacy  and  quiet.  His  mental  attitude  at  this  time  may 
be  best  described  in  his  own  words,  "...  with  no  small 
delight,  I  resumed  my  intermitted  studies,  cheerfully 
leaving  the  issue  of  public  affairs,  first  to  God,  and  then 
to  those  to  whom  the  people  had  committed  that  charge." 
His  practical  energy  took  the  form  of  "commencing 
schoolmaster."  His  two  nephews,  Edward  and  John 
Phillips,  had  been  "  put  to  board "  with  him.  These, 
with  a  small  number  of  boys,  "the  sons  of  gentlemen 
who  were  his  intimate  friends,"  made  a  school  that  must 
indeed  have  justified  the  description  of  it  as  select.  The 
course  of  study  included  mathematics  and  astronomy, 


24  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Syriac,  Chaldee,  Hebrew,  Greek,  French,  Latin,  Italian, 
and  the  compilation  from  dictated  notes  of  a  system  of 
divinity  arranged  by  Milton  himself.  The  master  be- 
lieved in  severe  discipline,  but  used  familiar  and  free 
conversation;  he  worked  hard,  lived  on  a  spare  diet  for 
an  example  to  his  students ;  but,  none  the  less,  gave  him- 
self what  he  called  "a  gaudy  day,"  with  "young  sparks 
of  his  acquaintance,"  about  once  a  month.  His  resolve 
to  trust  the  issue  of  public  affairs  to  God  and  then  to 
those  appointed  by  the  people  was  soon  invaded  by 
"noises  and  hoarse  disputes." 

In  1641  appeared  Of  Reformation  touching  Church 
Discipline  in  England  and  the  Causes  that  have  hitherto 
Hindered  It,  by  Milton ;  and  the  reply  to  Bishop  Hall's 
Humble  Remonstrance  to  the  High  Court  of  Parliament 
entitled  Smectynmuus,  a  word  made  up  of  the  initials 
of  the  names  of  the  authors,  by  five  Puritan  ministers. 
These  were  Stephen  Marshall,  Edmund  Calamy,  Thomas 
Young  (Milton's  first  teacher),  Matthew  Newcomen, 
and  William  Spurstow.  In  the  controversy  that  fol- 
lowed, Milton  published  Of  Prelatical  Episcopacy, 
The  Reason  of  Church  Government  urged  against 
Prelaty,  Animadversions  upon  the  Remonstrant's  De- 
fense against  Smectymnuus.  Complete  absorption  in 
these  high  matters  and  stormy  debates  must  have  been 
prevented  by  two  events  of  personal  significance  to 
Milton.  One  was  the  advent  of  Milton's  father.  In 
1643  ne  came  from  the  house  of  his  son  Christopher 
in  Reading  to  live  with  the  poet.  With  John  Milton  he 


Introduction  25 

lived  until  his  death,  in  1647.  The  other  was  the  poet's 
marriage,  thus  described  by  Phillips  :  "  About  Whitsun- 
tide, he  [Milton]  took  a  journey  into  the  country,  no- 
body about  him  certainly  knowing  the  reason,  or  that  it 
was  more  than  a  journey  of  recreation.  After  a  month's 
stay  home,  he  returns  a  married  man  who  set  out  a 
bachelor ;  his  wife  being  Mary,  the  eldest  daughter  of 
Mr.  Richard  Powell,  then  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  of  For- 
est Hill,  near  Shotover,  in  Oxfordshire." 

The  Powell  family  was  Royalist  in  its  political  sym- 
pathy. Mr.  Justice  Powell  was  in  debt  to  Milton  for 
a  considerable  sum  of  money,  lent  by  his  father.  In 
spite  of  a  "  feasting  held  for  some  days  in  celebration  of 
the  nuptials,"  within  two  months  of  the  marriage  day, 
Milton's  bride  accepted  an  invitation  from  her  friends  in 
the  country  to  visit  them.  The  somewhat  miscellaneous 
or  conflicting  considerations  mentioned  above  did  not 
afford  grounds  for  a  strong  enough  sense  of  conjugal  duty 
to  bring  the  lady  back  at  the  Michaelmas  appointed  by 
Milton  as  the  limit  of  her  stay.  Milton's  efforts  to  regain 
his  wife  were  treated  "with  some  sort  of  contempt,"  nor 
did  she  return  for  two  years.  This  return  has  been  vari- 
ously interpreted  as  due  to  considerations  of  selfish  policy, 
quickened  by  the  course  of  public  events,  the  need  of 
support  for  the  falling  family  fortunes,  or  the  fear  of  her 
husband's  acting  upon  the  theories  of  divorce  and  mar- 
riage he  was  so  fluently  elaborating.  For  in  1 644  Milton 
had  published,  at  first  anonymously,  The  Doctrine  and 
Discipline  of  Divorce ;  in  1645,  Tetrachordon,  or  Expo- 


26  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

sitions  upon  the  Four  Chief  Places  of  Scripture  which  treat 
of  Marriage,  and  Colas terion  the  reply  to  an  attack  upon 
his  first  work  on  divorce.  After  Milton's  forgiveness  of 
his  wife,  he  moved  to  a  house  in  Barbican,  where  he 
received  his  impoverished  father-in-law  and  his  family 
after  the  surrender  of  Oxford.  For  a  matter  of  two  years, 
until  Mr.  Powell's  death  in  January,  1647,  Milton  sup- 
ported the  family.  His  efforts  to  recover  the  sequestered 
property  were  partly  successful.  His  residence  in  the 
house  in  Barbican  was  also  marked  by  the  birth  of  his 
first  child,  Anne,  July  29,  1646. 

To  the  year  1644  also  belong  the  Tractate  on  Educa- 
tion, the  Areopagitica,  or  a  Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  Un- 
licensed Printing.  The  Areopagitica  is  the  greatest  of 
Milton's  prose  works,  both  for  the  sentiments  it  embodies 
and  the  dignity  of  its  piled-up  periods.  The  controversy 
between  the  Presbyterians  and  the  Independents  supplied 
him  with  occasion  for  weighty  argument  and  sharp-drawn 
distinctions,  but  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  in  1648,  found 
Milton's  store  of  poetry  increased  by  only  nine  sonnets 
and  a  few  efforts  in  Latin.  Meantime  he  had  moved 
again  to  a  house  in  Holborn,  where  a  second  daughter, 
Mary,  was  born.  But  even  settled  domestic  relations  did 
not  relieve  Milton  from  the  burden  of  public  affairs.  The 
execution  of  Charles  I,  in  1649,  called  out  from  the  poet 
turned  "  proser  "  a  defense  under  the  title  The  Tenure  of 
Kings  and  Magistrates.  So  it  was  probably  no  matter  for 
surprise  when  he  was  commissioned  Secretary  of  Foreign 
Tongues  to  the  new  Commonwealth  by  the  Council 


Introduction  27 

of  State,  March,  1649.  His  taste  for  statecraft  was 
also  indicated  in  the  Observations  on  Ormond's  Articles 
of  Peace  with  the  Irish  Rebels.  The  duties  of  the  Latin 
Secretary,  as  Milton  was  called,  are  said  by  Professor 
Masson  to  have  been  much  like  those  of  the  head  of 
the  present  Foreign  Office  under  the  minister  of  that 
department  for  the  English  government.  There  was, 
however,  one  important  difference ;  the  council  of  state 
in  Milton's  time,  as  Masson  accurately  notes,  managed 
the  foreign  ministry  as  well  as  all  the  other  depart- 
ments of  state.  During  the  early  years  of  Milton's 
discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  post,  the  man  and  the 
poet  practically  disappear  in  the  official.  But  as  the 
man  and  his  aims  were  great,  so  the  officer  was  never 
petty.  Milton  never  became  a  mere  clerk  or  substitute 
for  a  district  messenger  boy.  His  labour  was  literally 
terrible,  the  sense  of  duty  and  of  "  a  clear  call  "  became 
a  "  strong  compulsion."  He  was  warned  that  he  had  al- 
ready overtaxed  his  eyes  and  must  look  for  total  blindness 
unless  he  would  lessen  his  heavy  demands  upon  them. 
But  these  efforts  were  not  called  forth  by  the  correspond- 
ence with  kings  or  the  interviews  with  ambassadors,  use- 
ful as  Milton  was  in  these  relations.  Nor  could  his  activity 
as  official  licenser  of  a  newspaper  called  Mercurius  Poli- 
ticus.,  uncongenial  and  therefore  costly  as  such  oversight 
might  seem  to  be  to  the  author  of  the  Arcopagitica^  have 
been  particularly  burdensome.  The  truth  is  that  Milton 
was  something  between  a  "  learned  counsel,"  retained  by 
the  Commonwealth,  and  its  strong-hearted  champion, 


28  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

ready  to  take  up  whatever  gage  was  thrown  down.  Dur- 
ing the  ten  years  in  which  he  defended  it  from  all  attacks, 
his  prose  work  is  represented  by  the  Eikonoklastes,  1649, 
written  in  reply  to  the  famous  Eikon  Basilike  (Royal  Im- 
age), supposed  to  be  the  prayers  and  meditations  of  Charles 
I ;  the  Defensiopro  Populo  Anglic ano,  165 1,  in  reply  to  the 
Leyden  professor,  Salmasius.  For  this  last,  the  council 
returned  thanks  to  "  Mr.  Milton."  The  critics  and  schol- 
ars of  Europe  made  it  their  talk  for  months  and  expressed 
amazement  at  the  "  mangling  "  that  the  great  Salmasius 
had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  one  of  "  the  English  Mas- 
tiffs." But  in  1652  he  was  totally  blind.  He  says  :  "The 
choice  lay  before  me,  between  dereliction  of  a  supreme 
duty  and  loss  of  eyesight ;  in  such  a  case  I  could  not 
listen  to  the  physician,  not  if  ^Esculapius  himself  had 
spoken  from  his  sanctuary :  I  could  not  but  obey  that 
inward  monitor,  I  know  not  what,  that  spake  to  me  from 
heaven.  I  considered  with  myself  that  many  had  pur- 
chased less  good  with  worse  ill,  as  they  who  give  their 
lives  to  reap  only  glory,  and  I  thereupon  concluded  to 
employ  the  little  remaining  eyesight  I  was  to  enjoy  in 
doing  this,  the  greatest  service  to  the  common  weal  it  was 
in  my  power  to  render." 

In  the  years  from  1649  to  J^52  ^e  nad  lived  at  Char- 
ing Cross  and  in  Scotland  Yard,  Whitehall,  that  he  might 
be  near  the  scene  of  his  duties.  In  the  beginning  of 
1652,  however,  he  moved  to  a  garden  house  in  Petty 
France,  Westminster,  opening  into  St.  James's  Park. 
This  house  was  later  owned  by  Jeremy  Bentham ;  and  oc- 


Introduction  29 

cupied  by  William  Hazlitt,  in  1811.  The  preoccupation 
of  Milton's  mind  with  the  stir  and  smoke  of  conflict  may 
be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  in  the  ten  years  of  his  ac- 
tive employment  by  the  government,  he  wrote  only  eight 
sonnets  and  a  few  Latin  pieces  in  the  interests  of  artistic 
/iterature.  In  1653-4  his  wife  died  at  the  birth  of  a 
daughter,  Deborah.  In  1656  he  married  again,  Catherine 
Woodcock,  who  died  in  childbirth  fifteen  months  after 
marriage.  In  1662-3  he  married  a  third  wife,  Elizabeth 
Minshull,  she  being  twenty-four  and  Milton  fifty-four  years 
of  age.  His  relations  with  his  daughters  were  not  happy 
and  hardly  reasonable.  The  eldest  was  somewhat  de- 
formed, at  this  time  in  her  seventeenth  year,  the  next  in 
her  fifteenth,  the  third  in  her  eleventh.  The  eldest  could 
not  write  at  all,  the  other  two  "  but  indifferent  well."  So 
the  legend  of  their  writing  to  his  dictation  is  not  strictly 
accurate.  In  lieu  of  better  help,  however,  he  would  make 
the  younger  ones  read  to  him,  and  to  this  end  he  had 
taught  them  to  read  in  Greek,  Latin,  French,  Italian, 
Spanish,  and  Hebrew,  although  they  did  not  themselves 
understand  a  word  of  what  they  were  reading.  They 
soon  rebelled.  He  reproached  them.  He  said  they 
"  made  nothing  of  deserting  him,"  they  "  made  away  with 
some  of  his  books,  and  would  have  sold  the  rest  to  the 
dunghill  women,"  they  "  did  combine  together  and  coun- 
cil his  maid-servant  to  cheat  him  in  her  marketings." 
On  the  other  hand,  when  his  second  daughter  heard  of 
his  intention  of  marrying  again,  she  said  that "  that  was 
no  news,  to  hear  of  his  wedding,  but  if  she  could  hear  of 


30  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

his  death,  that  was  something."  This  miserable  state  of 
things  was  modified  for  the  better  by  the  advent  into  the 
family  of  the  stepmother,  and  was  finally  ended  by  her 
plan,  put  in  force  about  1669,  by  which  the  three  daugh- 
ters no  longer  tried  to  live  with  their  father,  but  went 
out,  at  their  father's  expense,  "  to  learn  some  curious 
and  ingenious  sorts  of  manufacture  that  are  proper  for 
women  to  learn,  particularly  embroideries  in  gold  and 
silver." 

Milton's  literary  work  from  1652  to  1664  was  impor- 
tant and  interesting.  There  were  fourteen  of  his  Latin 
familiar  epistles  as  one  item.  In  1654,  appeared  his 
reply  to  the  anonymous  attack  made  upon  him  in  the 
interest  of  Salmasius.  It  was  entitled  Joannis  Miltoni 
Angli pro  Populo  Anglicano  Defensio  Secunda.  Through- 
out this  work  Milton  assumes  that  the  author  of  the 
attack  was  Alexander  More  or  Morus ;  in  reality,  it  was 
Peter  du  Moulin.  And  Milton's  abuse  of  Morus  is  ter- 
rible. His  eulogy  of  Cromwell  and  the  heroes  of  the 
Commonwealth  is  as  splendid  as  his  vituperation  of  their 
enemies.  Morus  replied  to  Milton,  who  responded,  in 
1655,  vi\\hjoannis  Miltoni  Angli  pro  se  Defensio  contra 
Alexandrum  Morum.  Here  belong  six  sonnets  of  Mil- 
ton's best :  On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont  (1655),  On 
His  Blindness,  To  Mr.  Lawrence,  To  Cyriack  Skinner, 
To  the  Same  (1655),  On  His  Deceased  Wife  (1658). 

Four  of  these  sonnets  are  so  valuable  in  the  knowl- 
edge they  afford  of  Milton  that  the  student  should  study 
them  affectionately  and  repeatedly. 


Introduction  31 


ON  THE   LATE   MASSACRE    IN   PIEDMONT 

Avenge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 
Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold; 
Even  them  who  kept  thy  truth  so  pure  of  old, 
When  all  our  fathers  worshipped  stocks  and  stones, 
Forget  not :  in  thy  book  record  their  groans 
Who  were  thy  sheep,  and  in  their  ancient  fold 
Slain  by  the  bloody  Piemontese  that  rolled 
Mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks.     Their  moans 
The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hills,  and  they 
To  heaven.     Their  martyred  blood  and  ashes  sow 
O'er  all  the  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway 
The  triple  tyrant  ;  that  from  these  may  grow 
A  hundredfold,  who  having  learnt  thy  way 
Early  may  fly  the  Babylonian  woe. 


ON   HIS   BLINDNESS 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 

And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide 

Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 

To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 

My  true  account,  lest  he  returning  chide, 

"  Doth  God  exact  day-labour,  light  denied  ?  " 

I  fondly  ask.     Put  Patience,  to  prevent 

That  murmur,  soon  replies,  "  God  doth  not  need 

Either  man's  work,  or  his  own  gifts.     Who  best 

Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best.     His  state 

Is  kingly  :  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed, 

And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest; 

They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 


32  Milton's  Minor  Poems 


TO   CYRIACK   SKINNER,    ON   HIS   BLINDNESS 

Cyriack,  this  three  years'  day  these  eyes,  though  clear 

To  outward  view  of  blemish  or  of  spot, 

Bereft  of  light  their  seeing  have  forgot ; 

Nor  to  their  idle  orbs  doth  sight  appear 

Of  sun  or  moon  or  star,  throughout  the  year, 

Or  man  or  woman.     Yet  I  argue  not 

Against  Heaven's  hand  or  will,  nor  bate  a  jot 

Of  heart  or  hope,  but  still  bear  up  and  steer 

Right  onward.     What  supports  me,  dost  thou  ask  ? 

The  conscience,  friend,  to  have  lost  them  overplied 

In  Liberty's  defence,  my  noble  task, 

Of  which  all  Europe  rings  from  side  to  side. 

This  thought  might  lead  me  through  the  world's  vain  mask 

Content  though  blind,  had  I  no  better  guide. 


ON   HIS   DECEASED   WIFE 

Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Jove's  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 
Rescued  from  death  by  force  though  pale  and  faint. 
Mine,  as  whom  washed  from  spot  of  child-bed  taint 
Purification  in  the  old  Law  did  save, 
And  such  as  yet  once  more  I  trust  to  have 
Full  sight  of  her  in  heaven  without  restraint, 
Came  vested  all  in  white,  pure  as  her  mind. 
Her  face  was  veiled,  yet  to  my  fancied  sight 
Love,  sweetness,  goodness,  in  her  person  shined 
So  clear  as  in  no  face  with  more  delight. 
But  oh !  as  to  embrace  me  she  inclined, 
I  waked,  she  fled,  and  day  brought  back  my  night. 


Introduction  33 

This  period  of  Milton's  life  takes  on  special  interest  for 
the  student  in  view  of  the  widely  held  opinion  among 
literary  critics  that  Milton  was  right  in  his  feeling  that  he 
could  work  out  only  part,  and  that  the  baser  part,  of  his 
great  task  by  writing  prose.  That  Milton  should  have 
preferred  to  write  poetry,  is  natural,  and  we  can  under- 
stand his  feeling  of  "  left-handed  ness  "  while  he  was  about 
his  pamphlets  and  state  papers,  but  we  cannot  feel  full 
sympathy  with  those  who  regret  the  time  and  strength 
expended  on  them.  Nor  do  the  facts  give  ground  for 
such  regret.  For  there  is  little  if  any  doubt  that  Para- 
dise Lost  was  actually  begun  in  the  last  year  of  the  Pro- 
tectorate. The  subject  as  a  suitable  one  for  his  great 
work  had  been  in  Milton's  mind  since  1639  or  1640, 
although,  as  it  was  first  planned,  the  poem  was  to  have 
been  in  dramatic  form.  Meantime  Milton  was  writing 
eleven  Latin  letters  in  the  interests  of  Richard  Cromwell, 
and  two  for  the  restored  Rump  Parliament  after  the  fail- 
ure and  abdication  of  Richard.  At  this  time,  October 
1659,  Andrew  Marvell  was  his  colleague  in  the  office  of 
secretary.  A  Treatise  of  Civil  Power  in  Ecclesiastical 
Causes  and  Considerations  touching  the  Likeliest  Means 
to  remove  Hirelings  out  of  the  Church  are  titles  showing 
the  direction  of  Milton's  efforts  in  these  wretched  times. 
The  Ready  and  Easy  Way  to  establish  a  Free  Common- 
wealthy  in  March  1660,  showed  Milton  still  bearing  up 
and  steering  right  onward,  despite  a  desperate  certainty 
that  the  cause  was  lost  and  further  struggle  no  more  than 
a  show  of  personal  courage.  Later  editions  and  other 
MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  3 


34  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

efforts  of  his  are  full  of  vehemence  and  urgent  apprehen- 
sion of  the  evil  certain  to  come  upon  the  British  Islands. 
Poetry  during  this  impending  crisis  he  wrote  none ;  in- 
stead he  must  have  needed  all  his  natural  and  acquired 
fortitude  to  bear  up  under  the  contemptuous  retort  of 
KoL;er  I/Kstrange  in  his  Nt>  />////</  Guides.  Three  Latin 
familiar  epistles  belong  to  this  time.  Charles  II  made 
his  entry  into  London,  May  29.  Some  of  the  bloody 
revenges  that  Milton  had  prophesied  came  about.  But 
by  some  extraordinary  dispensation,  Milton  escaped.  To 
avoid  apprehension,  he  fled  from  his  house  in  Petty 
France  and  was  concealed  in  a  friend's  house  in  Bar- 
tholomew Close,  near  Smithfield,  while  the  Convention 
Parliament  discussed  the  punishment  proper  for  the 
regicides  and  anti-royalists.  The  fifty-four  survivors 
of  the  seventy-seven  "  king's  judges  "  who  had  tried  and 
condemned  Charles  I  were  objects  of  bitter  denunciation 
and  active  search.  They  were  of  course  foremost  on  the 
list  of  those  excepted  from  a  Bill  of  General  Indemnity 
and  Oblivion,  brought  into  the  Commons  in  accord  with 
the  restored  king's  desire  for  clemency.  Another  list  of 
some  thirty  or  forty  were  denounced  for  general  demerit 
and  delinquency.  The  Commons  on  the  i6th  of  June 
ordered  Milton's  arrest  and  indictment  by  the  attorney- 
general  on  the  score  of  the  Eikonoklastes  and  the 
Dcfcnsio  pro  Populo  Anglicano  contra  Salmasium.  After 
due  petition,  a  royal  proclamation  on  the  i3th  of  August 
called  in  all  copies  of  these  books  and  ordered  them  to 
be  burned.  But  Milton's  name  never  appeared  in  any  of 


Introduction  35 

the  lists  of  persons  excepted  from  the  Bill  of  Indemnity, 
assented  to  by  the  king,  August  29.  Technically,  then, 
Milton  escaped  by  default,  as  it  might  be.  There  is  little 
doubt,  however,  that  he  had  powerful  friends  in  the 
Commons  and  the  Lords  who  protected  his  life  and  then 
advanced  his  interests  as  they  could  from  time  to  time. 
For  a  short  time  he  was  in  custody,  but  the  records  of 
the  House  of  Commons  show  an  order  to  the  sergeant- 
at-arms  to  release  Mr.  Milton  on  the  payment  of  his  fees. 
Milton  complained  that  the  fees  were  exorbitant  and  Mr. 
Andrew  Marvell  was  the  member  who  brought  his  com- 
plaint before  the  House.  Milton's  complete  release  was 
followed  by  a  short  stay  in  Holborn,  near  the  present 
Red  Lion  Square,  with  a  still  later  removal  to  a  house  in 
Jewin  Street  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Alclersgate  Street. 
In  1664,  probably,  Milton  moved  to  what  was  to  be  the 
last  of  his  London  houses.  This  was  in  Artillery  Walk, 
leading  out  of  Bunhill  Fields.  Here,  within  two  years, 
in  1665,  Paradise  Lost  was  completed.  It  was  published 
in  1667.  Gradually  the  world  changed  for  Milton.  The 
"  blind  old  rascal/1  the  thwarted  patriot,  the  man  fallen 
on  evil  days,  and  evil  tongues,  in  darkness  and  compassed 
round  with  dangers  and  solitude,  had  come  to  his  own 
again.  As  Dryden  is  said  to  have  put  it,  "  This  man  cuts 
us  all  out,  and  the  ancients  too."  From  this  time  on 
Milton  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  solitude.  Professor 
Masson's  account  of  Milton's  habits  and  mode  of  living 
during  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life  is  so  interesting  and 
so  instructive  that  it  deserves  quotation  in  full.  "  He 


36  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

used  to  get  up  very  early,  generally  at  four  o'clock  in 
summer  and  five  in  winter.  After  having  a  chapter  or 
two  of  the  Hebrew  Bible  read  to  him,  he  worked,  first  in 
meditation  by  himself,  and  then  after  breakfast  by  dicta- 
tion to  his  amanuensis  for  the  time  being,  interspersed 
with  farther  readings  to  him  from  the  books  he  wanted 
to  consult,  till  near  his  midday  dinner.  A  good  part  of 
the  afternoon  was  then  given  to  walking  in  the  garden 
(and  a  garden  of  some  kind  had  been  always  a  requisite 
with  him),  or  to  playing  on  the  organ,  and  singing,  or 
hearing  his  wife  sing  within  doors.  His  wife,  he  said, 
had  a  good  voice,  but  no  ear.  Later  in  the  afternoon  he 
resumed  work ;  but  about  six  o'clock  he  was  ready  to 
receive  evening  visitors,  and  to  talk  with  them  till  about 
eight,  when  there  was  a  supper  of  '  olives  or  some  light 
thing.'  He  was  very  temperate  at  meals,  drinking 
very  little  '  wine  or  strong  liquors  of  any  kind  ' ;  but  his 
conversation  at  dinner  and  supper  was  very  pleasant  and 
cheerful,  with  a  tendency  to  the  satirical.  This  humour 
for  satire  was  connected  by  some  of  his  hearers  with  his 
strong  way  of  pronouncing  the  letter  r ;  '  litera  canina, 
the  dog  letter,  the  certain  sign  of  a  satirical  wit,'  as 
Dryden  said  to  Aubrey  when  they  were  talking  of  this 
personal  trait  of  Milton.  After  supper,  when  left  to  him- 
self, he  smoked  his  pipe  and  drank  a  glass  of  water  before 
going  to  bed ;  which  was  usually  at  nine  o'clock.  He 
attended  no  church,  and  belonged  to  no  communion, 
nor  had  he  any  regular  prayers  in  his  family,  having  some 
principle  of  his  own  on  that  subject  which  his  friends  did 


Introduction  37 

not  understand.  His  favourite  attitude  in  dictating  was 
sitting  somewhat  aslant  in  an  elbow-chair,  with  his  leg 
thrown  over  one  of  the  arms.  He  would  dictate  his 
verses,  thirty  or  forty  at  a  time,  to  any  one  that  happened 
to  be  at  hand.  .  .  .  His  poetical  vein,  Phillips  tells  us, 
flowed  most  happily  '  from  the  autumnal  equinox  to  the 
vernal/  i.e.,  from  the  end  of  September  to  the  end  of 
March,  —  so  that,  with  all  his  exertions  through  the  other 
half  of  the  year,  he  was  never  so  well  satisfied  with  the 
results.  His  poor  health,  and  frequent  headaches,  and 
other  pains,  were  another  interference  with  his  work; 
but  less  than  might  have  been  supposed.  Gout  was  his 
most  confirmed  ailment,  and  it  had  begun  to  stiffen  his 
hands." 

Jonathan  Richardson,  the  painter,  is  quoted  by  Professor 
Masson  as  follows  :  "  I  have  heard  many  years  since,  that 
he  used  to  sit  in  a  grey  coarse  cloth  coat  at  the  door  of 
his  house  near  Bunhill  Fields,  without  Moorgate,  in  warm, 
sunny  weather,  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air,  and  so,  as  well  as 
in  his  room,  received  the  visits  of  people  of  distinguished 
parts  as  well  as  quality :  and  very  lately  I  had  the  good 
fortune  to  have  another  picture  of  him  from  an  aged 
clergyman  of  Dorsetshire,  Dr.  Wright.  He  found  him  in 
a  small  house,  he  thinks  but  one  room  on  a  floor.  In 
that,  up  one  pair  of  stairs,  which  was  hung  with  a  rusty 
green,  he  found  John  Milton  sitting  in  an  elbow-chair, 
black  clothes,  and  neat  enough ;  pale,  but  not  cadaver- 
ous ;  his  hands  and  fingers  gouty,  and  with  chalk-stones. 
Among  other  discourse  he  expressed  himself  to  this  pur- 


3 8  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

pose,  —  that  was  he  free  from  the  pain  this  gave  him,  his 
blindness  would  be  tolerable." 

During  the  last  four  or  five  years  of  Milton's  life  he 
published,  in  1669,  Accedence  Commenced  Grammar ;  in 

1670,  History  of  Britain  to  the  Norman   Conquest;  in 

1671,  Paradise  Regained,  and  Samson  Agonistes  ;  in  1672, 
a   Latin  treatise  on  logic,  according  to  the  system  of 
Ramus. 

Milton  died  on  Sunday,  November  8,  1674,  very 
quietly  of  "  gout  struck  in."  He  was  laid  beside  his 
father  in  the  church  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  and  was 
followed  to  his  grave  by  "  all  his  learned  and  great 
friends  in  London,  not  without  a  friendly  concourse  of 
the  vulgar." 

It  would  seem  that  Milton's  literary  activity  had  been 
enough,  as  shown  by  the  record  already  given,  to  fill  one 
lifetime ;  but  seven  years  after  his  death  appeared  a  few 
pages  under  the  title  Mr.  John  Milton's  Character  of  the 
Long  Parliament  and  Assembly  of  Divines.  It  was  alleged 
that  this  had  been  omitted  from  the  History  of  Britain 
when  Milton  published  it  in  1670.  In  1682  was  pub- 
lished A  Brief  History  of  Muscovia  and  of  other  less 
known  countries  lying  eastward  of  Russia  as  far  as 
Cathay.  A  London  bookseller  in  1676  published  a  sur- 
reptitious edition  of  the  Latin  State  Letters.  A  better 
edition  appeared  in  1690,  and  Phillips's  translation  in 
1694.  John  Nickolls,  in  1743,  edited  Milton's  Letters 
and  Addresses  of  Cromwell  in  a  thin  folio.  But  far 
more  important  than  any  of  these  is  the  long-lost  treatise, 


Introduction  39 

De  Doctrina  Christiana.  This  was  published  and  trans- 
lated by  Dr.  Sumner  in  1825.  It  is  no  less  interesting 
to  the  student  of  Milton's  opinions  than  to  the  ad- 
mirer of  his  genius.  Here  he  appears  to  be  no  Trini- 
tarian, no  Calvinist,  no  Sabbatarian.  He  does  not  hold 
the  commonly  received  doctrine  with  regard  to  spirit 
and  matter,  or  body  and  soul.  These  he  considers  one 
and  inseparable.  He  does  believe  in  a  literal  resurrec- 
tion of  all  that  have  ever  lived.  The  Bible  he  holds  to  be 
the  sole  rule  of  Christian  faith,  but  it  is  to  be  studied  and 
interpreted  by  every  man  for  himself.  He  believes  in 
war  against  tyranny;  in  prayers  and  curses  against  bad 
men.  He  insists  upon  the  right  of  divorce,  and  defends 
polygamy.  Among  these  heresies  he  manages  to  move 
with  decision  and  composure,  and  whatever  surprise  and 
fear  the  reader  may  feel  at  such  world-shaking  doctrines, 
it  is  clear  that  John  Milton  feels  none. 

More  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  namely,  in 
1648,  there  was  printed  in  London  a  book  of  Latin  prose 
and  verse,  called  Nova  Solymce  Libri  Sex.  It  apparently 
attracted  no  attention  from  the  public  then,  and  remained 
in  the  dust  of  library  corners  until  the  Rev.  Walter 
Begley  translated  and  edited  it  under  the  following  title 
and  description  :  Nova  Sotyma,  the  Ideal  City:  or  Jeru- 
salem Regained.  An  anonymous  romance  written  in  the 
time  of  Charles  /,  now  first  drawn  from  obscurity  and 
attributed  to  the  illustrious  John  Milton.  .  .  .  1902. 
Professor  Gummere  says  of  this  claim  upon  "the  illustri- 
ous John  Milton  "  :  "  Unless  strong  external  evidence  is 


4O  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

forthcoming,  we  can  never  be  wholly  justified  in  shelving 
Nova  Solyma  beside  Paradise  Losf,  yet  the  case  is  so 
probable  that  the  book  must  hereafter  be  reckoned  with 
by  all  thoroughgoing  students  of  Milton."  The  gratitude 
of  the  thoroughgoing  student  is  at  all  events  due  to  Mr. 
Begley  for  this  opportunity  to  study  in  detail  the  copious 
extracts  from  the  Latin  original.  It  is  no  slight  privilege 
to  be  able  to  scan  the  literary  workmanship  of  an  artist 
who,  if  he  were  not  John  Milton,  was  clearly  the  only  other 
man  of  Milton's  time  who  chose  hard  thoughts  to  play 
with,  and  who  could  write  better  Latin  verse  than  prose. 
And  whoever  the  author,  the  student  of  Milton  will  do 
well  to  make  himself  familiar  with  a  type  of  phrase  that 
bears  the  most  extraordinary  resemblance  to  Milton's  in 
structure  and  use. 

II.  L' ALLEGRO,  IL  PENSEROSO 

These  poems  were  published  by  Milton  in  the  collec- 
tion of  his  works  made  in  1645.  They  have  been  vari- 
ously interpreted.  There  are  the  strict  constructionists 
and  the  free.  There  are  critics  who  find  them  mines  of 
autobiography,  and  others  who  find  them  storehouses 
of  information  about  nature  in  her  various  moods.  Some 
even  assert  their  faith  in  Milton's  psychological  and  patho- 
logical purpose  of  analysis  of  mood  and  portraiture  of 
temperament.  And  doubtless  there  is  some  truth  in  all  this. 
Milton  left  few  fields  unharvested,  his  young  curiosity 
was  tireless,  his  reading  was  omnivorous.  The  quotation 


Introduction  41 

heaps  of  Burton  seemed  no  burden  upon  his  intellectual 
endurance.  The  appearance  of  Gunter's  Tables  was 
received  by  him  as  an  aid  and  elegant  diversion  rather 
than  as  a  labour-saving  device.  Attempts  have  been  made 
to  reduce  these  poems  from  poetry  to  anatomy  and  psy- 
chology of  the  precisely  scientific  sort.  Just  how  much 
these  men  or  moods  have  in  common  with  each  other, 
and  how  far  either  or  both  stand  for  the  author  in  his 
normal  state  when  free  from  the  fine  frenzy  of  the  poet ; 
precisely  how  far  the  men  and  the  moods  are  mutually 
exclusive  —  these  are  questions  which  have  had  at  least 
the  merit  of  producing  minutely  careful  study  of  the 
verses.  But  the  main  thing  invariably  discovered  is  that 
the  poetry  is  very  beautiful  and  alluring  poetry.  And 
from  the  seductions  of  this  poetry  the  reader  comes 
back  to  life  and  himself  happier  and  better  and  stronger. 
Emotion  has  been  varied  by  emotion,  without  strain  and 
without  tension,  and,  above  all,  without  sensation. 

Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  says :  "  I  do  not  think  that 
L?  Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  and  Comas  have  any  lower  place 
in  the  world,  or  any  less  enduring  life,  than  Paradise 
Lost.  We  have  thought  so  much  of  Milton's  strength 
and  sublimity  that  we  have  ceased  to  recognize  what  is 
also  true,  that  he,  of  all  English  poets,  is  by  nature  the 
supreme  lover  of  beauty." 

But  probably  no  other  English  poet  has  looked  upon 
beauty  with  so  powerful  a  brain  and  conscience  behind 
the  seeing  eyes.  "  Follow  Virtue.  She  alone  is  free," 
his  level,  steady  gaze  at  the  insolence  and  pomp  of  fleet- 


42  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

ing  Beauty  seems  to  say.  What  the  earliest  Life  of 
Milton,  recently  published  for  the  first  time  by  Dr. 
Edward  S.  Parsons  of  Colorado  College,  records  of  him 
in  another  important  relation  of  life  is  no  less  true  of 
him  in  this  : 

"  From  so  Christian  a  Life,  so  great  Learning,  and  so  - 
unbyass'd  a  search  after  Truth  it  is  not  probable  any 
errors  in  Doctrine  should  spring.  And  therefore  his 
Judgment  in  his  Body  of  Divinity  concerning  some 
speculative  points,  differing  perhaps  from  that  commonly 
received  (and  which  is  thought  to  bee  the  reason  that 
never  was  printed),  neither  ought  rashly  to  bee  con- 
demned, and  however  himselfe  not  to  bee  uncharitably 
censur'd ;  who  by  beeing  a  constant  Champion  for  the 
liberty  of  opining,  expressed  much  Candour  towards 
others." 

III.  ARCADES 

This  work  of  Milton's  has  been  too  often  lightly  set 
aside  as  a  mere  understudy  for  Comus.  It  possesses 
great  interest  in  view  of  its  occasion,  its  subject-matter, 
and  its  form.  The  occasion  was  the  celebration  of  the 
seventy  years  of  the  life  of  the  Countess-Dowager  of 
Derby,  one  of  the  three  daughters  of  Sir  John  Spencer, 
known  from  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Again  as  Phyllis, 
Charillis,  and  Sweet  Amaryllis.  Amaryllis  (Alice)  had 
married  Ferdinando,  Lord  Strange,  who  had  already  been 
married  twice,  for  her  first  husband.  In  1600,  six  years 


Introduction  43 

after  his  death,  she  became  the  second  wife  of  Sir  Thomas 
Egerton,  Lord  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal.  At  their  estate 
of  Harefield,  during  Queen  Elizabeth's  visit  of  four  days, 
Burbage's  company  played  Othello.  Masks  of  various 
sorts  were  an  important  part  of  this  royal  entertainment. 
Lord  Egerton  died  in  1617.  Two  sons  of  the  Earl  of 
Bridgewater,  stepsons  to  the  Countess,  planned  this  en- 
tertainment in  her  honour  and  themselves  took  part  in 
Arcades.  Milton  treats  the  occasion  with  dignified  ap- 
preciation, but  with  the  self-respect  and  sense  of  ultimate 
values  unfailing  in  him  at  all  times.  It  is  interesting  to 
see  how  the  young  poet  spiritualizes  the  traditionally 
robust,  not  to  say  heavy,  entertainment  of  the  English 
public. 

In  the  material  Milton  uses,  the  student  and  the  man 
of  culture  are  frankly  revealed.  The  verses  demonstrate 
the  author's  wide  interests,  personal  independence,  and  a 
determination  already  taken  to  err  with  Plato  rather  than 
to  be  right  with  Aristotle  That  he  failed  to  understand 
either  Plato  or  Aristotle  is  little  to  the  point.  This  poem 
may  fairly  be  considered  a  sort  of  spiritual  log-book  of  a 
young  adventurer  in  the  sea  of  thought.  Many  men  had 
sailed  those  seas  before,  and  the  weather  and  the  ocean 
had  been  charted  often,  but  never  by  a  more  resolute  or 
a  more  devoted  sailor. 

The  form  adopted,  that  of  the  Mask,  was  at  this 
time  peculiarly  fitted  to  serve  as  the  medium  for  the  ex- 
pression of  Milton's  unique  combination  of  temperament 
and  conscience.  Historically  the  English  Mask  owed 


44  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

as  much  to  the  Miracle  Plays  and  Moralities  of  English 
guilds  and  churches  as  to  the  pageants  of  Florence  or  the 
faint  survival  of  Greek  drama.  Ben  Jonson  was  the  great- 
est of  English  Masters  of  the  Revels.  Inigo  Jones  was  the 
great  scene  painter  for  entertainments  that  cost  as  high  as 
^21,000,  and  Henry  Lawes  composed  music  for  them. 
In  1632  the  Mask,  with  other  theatrical  entertainments 
had  been  attacked  in  the  Histrio-Mastix :  The  Player's 
Scourge,  as  "the  very  pomp  of  the  Divell."  It  is  clear 
that  while  Milton  held  no  such  opinion,  he  was  quite 
willing  to  detract  from  the  spectacular  effect  of  the  per- 
formance by  the  charm  and  beauty  of  the  poetry  he 
offered  as  text.  Arcades  is  as  much  more  than  a  mere 
"  show "  as  the  conventional  Mask  was  less  than  the 
pomp  of  the  devil. 

The  manuscript  of  Arcades  is  in  Milton's  handwriting 
in  the  Cambridge  manuscripts.  It  appeared  in  print  in 
the  1645  edition  of  the  poet's  work. 

That  Milton  was  not  the  first  of  English  poets  to  feel 
instinctive  opposition  to  the  part  played  by  stage  machin- 
ery in  the  Mask  is  shown  by  reputed  references,  allu- 
sions, and  even  direct  attacks  by  critics  and  authors. 
But  no  one  of  them  all  asserted  himself  so  finally,  and  so 
triumphantly  demonstrated  his  superiority  of  all  aids  or 
rivals,  as  did  Milton. 

The  professional  jealousy  felt  by  Ben  Jonson  for  the 
stage  setting  of  Masks  and  the  more  magnanimous, 
because  constructive  and  competitive,  opposition  of  Mil- 
ton is  most  interestingly  justified  in  a  recent  account  and 


Introduction  45 

appreciation  of  the  work  of  Inigo  Jones  by  Ernest  Rhys 
in  The  Nineteenth  Century  for  July,  1903.  The  author 
says,  "  Like  other  men  who  have  lived  for  their  ideas, 
he  [Inigo  Jones]  showed  an  extraordinary  persistence  in 
realizing  them.  .  .  .  One  is  tempted  by  the  further  evi- 
dence of  his  masks  to  consider  him  not  only  an  artist 
whose  great  ideal  expressed  itself  in  his  smallest  works 
and  a  designer  '  haunted  by  proportion/  but  a  master- 
builder,  who,  if  he  had  had  his  way,  and  the  sky  had  not 
fallen  in  the  Civil  War,  would  have  done  something  to 
build  up  a  London  as  ordered  and  stately  as  any  Italian 
City.  .  .  .  Indeed  all  that  can  be  said  of  him  in  the 
praise  of  his  work  by  those  successors  of  his  own  calling 
to-day  who  alone  perhaps  can  wholly  appreciate  its  merits, 
has  been  said.  But  there  is  still  one  thing  to  be  done, 
to  fill  up  the  chart  of  his  ambition  and  the  outlines  of 
his  never-to-be-realized  dream  of  a  great  city  rising 
majestically  along  the  Thames  :  and  for  that  we  must  turn 
to  the  series  of  masks  which  he  helped  to  design.  For 
in  the  masks  his  ruling  passion  and  his  overmastering 
ambition  more  and  more  declared  themselves,  as  time 
went  on,  leading  incidentally  to  his  quarrel  with  Ben 
Jonson,  and  hinting  very  plainly  at  that  larger  work  which 
he  fondly  hoped  to  accomplish.  .  .  . 

"  Probably  after  his  return  from  his  first  journey  to 
Italy  —  the  native  region  of  the  mask  —  in  1604,  he  felt 
he  had  a  right  to  dictate  what  should  be  its  appropriate 
scenic  effects  to  Ben  Jonson  and  the  poets  who  naturally 
cared  more  for  their  poetry  than  its  stage  setting.  .  .  . 


46  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

He  spends  hours  over  the  fashion  of  a  mantle,  describing 
half  a  circle,  and  cast  back  over  the  shoulders,  or  hanging 
in  a  sinuous  fringe.  With  these  we  have  studies  by  the 
pageful  from  some  old  picture ;  of  face  or  feature,  eye  or 
eyebrow,  or  children's  limbs  and  children's  curves,  and 
figures  curiously  drawn  to  determine  the  proportions 
and  the  proportionate  lines  and  movements  of  the  body 
and  its  garments. 

"  In  all  these  sketches  of  the  figure,  we  find  our  artist 
much  absorbed  in  examining  and  defining  the  structure 
behind  the  apparition  of  beauty.  He  saw  men  as  he  saw 
houses,  expressions  of  the  same  law  of  proportion,  whose 
parts  of  an  enchanting  symmetry,  came  of  an  essentia  (  ?) 
and  no  accidental  grace. 

"  All  this  is  of  moment  in  judging  the  special  application 
of  his  art  to  the  stage.  Possessed  of  a  genius  of  the  eye, 
that  tyrannized  over  him,  and  compelled  him  to  find 
expression  for  it,  he  found  his  opening  first  in  the  aesthetic 
fantasy  of  the  mask,  whose  limits  he  presently  extended 
to  their  utmost  capacity.  ...  It  is  impossible  to  trace 
all  the  minor  accessions  from  its  prime  Italian  source, 
which  Inigo  Jones  may  have  brought  to  the  Jacobean 
mask.  Enough  to  see  how  he  speedily  altered  the 
mechanical  form,  and  practically  gave  us  our  modern 
stage,  and  doing  so  was  led  to  that  gradual  aggression  on 
Ben  Jonson's  jealous  preserve  which  produced  the  final 
quarrel  between  them.  In  the  process,  extending  over 
many  years,  we  find  the  expression  of  his  ideas  as  un- 
mistakably determined  in  his  masks  as  in  his  houses. 


Introduction  47 


.  .  .  Inigo  gives  us  very  modestly  the  theory  of  the 
mask :  '  These  shows  are  nothing  else  but  pictures  with 
light  and  motion.'  .  .  . 

"This  was  in  1631.  Two  or  three  years  later  came 
the  definite  break  with  Ben  Jonson,  who  exclaimed  vehe- 
mently at  these  scenic  aggressions  on  the  poet's  demesne. 
In  the  Tale  of  a  Tub  he  satirized  Inigo  with  one  violently 
caricatured  part  —  Vitruvius  —  which  he  was  compelled 
to  withdraw.  However,  he  retained  another  part,  '  In- 
and-in  Medlay/  which  effected  his  purpose  less  grossly. 
'  You  can  express  a  Tub  ? '  says  Tub  to  Medlay,  who 
replies : 

If  it  conduce 

To  the  design;  whate'er  is  feasible. 

The  two  words  in  italics  were  evidently  favourite  expres- 
sions of  Inigo  Jones's,  for  they  reappear  in  a  later  passage. 
" .  .  .  No  doubt  the  pretty  people  of  the  Court,  who 
took  a  part  in  these  gorgeous  shows,  found  it  easier  to  be 
effective  as  angels  in  one  of  Inigo  Jones's  pasteboard 
heavens,  than  as  actors  bound  to  speak  Jonson's  lines 
(not  always  brief  ones,  either)  as  he  wrote  them.  At 
any  rate,  the  poet,  it  proved,  could  be  dispensed  with : 
there  were  other  poets,  good  enough  for  court-masks : 
there  was  only  one  Inigo."  . 

IV.   COMUS 

As  the  Arcades  found  its  occasion  in  a  family  festival 
of  close  private  interest,  the  more  considerable  work  of 


48  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Comus  is  justified  by  its  connection  with  a  more  widely 
significant  event.  Sir  John  Egerton,  first  Earl  of  Bridge- 
water,  was  appointed  Lord  President  of  the  Council  in 
the  Principality  of  Wales  in  1631.  His  assumption  of 
the  duties  of  the  office  in  1634  was  marked  by  festivities 
at  the  official  seat  of  Ludlow  Castle.  Comus  was  pre- 
sented Michaelmas  night,  September  29.  Two  copies 
exist,  one  the  stage  copy  of  Lawes,  the  other  in  Milton's 
handwriting  in  the  Cambridge  Manuscript.  It  was  pub- 
lished in  the  1645  edition  of  Milton's  work.  Lawes  had 
previously  published  it  in  1637. 

Comus  has  in  general  the  same  features  noticed  in  the 
Arcades.  Throughout  the  poem  the  same  high  level  of 
poetry  and  humanity  is  maintained,  the  same  serene  in- 
terest in  all  things  worthy  and  of  good  report  prevails. 
The  world  is  not  too  much  with  us  when  we  follow  Milton. 
His  strongly  and  worthily  egoistic  imagination  deals  with 
thoughts  rather  than  with  men,  and  readily  deserts  even 
the  show  of  dramatic  action  for  monologue  and  elaborate 
suggestion  running  into  pathos  or  irony.  Throughout  the 
Mask  there  is  an  intellectual  dryness  of  atmosphere  that 
heightens  indefinitely  the  sort  of  illusion  produced  by  iso- 
lating the  episode  for  the  purpose  of  thinking  about  it, 
but  that-eompletely  destroys  the  illusion  commonly  known 
as  the  natural.  Milton's  characters  go  where  their  sen- 
tences and  periods  lead  them,  and  these  in  turn  are  what 
Milton's  reading  and  reflection  made  them.  In  form,  for 
example,  Milton  was  past  master  of  verbal  harmony,  but 
his  skill  in  little  tunes  was  slight.  His  was  not  a  parlour 


Introduction  49 

voice.  In  the  songs  interspersed  through  Comus  this  is 
well  illustrated.  In  their  proper  setting  they  were  doubt- 
less effective,  but  who  sings  them  now  ?  Milton's  songs, 
the  reader  suspects,  came  from  his  brain  and  conscience 
by  way  of  his  deep-toned  organ  harmonies  and  must 
have  overpowered  many  an  unsophisticated  reader.  Or 
with  their  complexity  of  suggestion  they  must  have  seemed 
artificial  to  plain  folk  who  missed  heartiness  and  melody 
in  all  the  measures  of  these  book  lyrics.  The  judicious, 
like  Henry  Lawes  and  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  in  Milton's  own 
time,  applaud  ;  all  must  admire  ;  but  the  haunting  strain, 
the  singing  spell,  the  lilt,  the  catch,  are  wanting  to  the 
vulgar.  The  comment  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton  leaves  little 
to  be  desired  for  discriminating  appreciation  of  essential 
character.  "  Since  your  going,  you  have  charged  me  with 
new  obligations,  both  for  a  very  kind  letter  from  you 
dated  the  6th  of  this  month,  and  for  a  dainty  piece 
of  entertainment  which  came  therewith.  Wherein  I 
should  much  commend  the  tragical  part,  if  the  lyrical  did 
not  ravish  me  with  a  certain  Doric  delicacy  in  your  Songs 
and  Odes,  whereunto  I  must  plainly  confess  to  have  seen 
yet  nothing  parallel  in  our  language  :  Ipsa  mollities" 

V.  AN  EXPOSTULATION  WITH  INIGO  JONES 
Ben  Jonson 

"  Master  Surveyor  you  that  first  began 
From  thirty  pounds  in  pipkins,  to  the  man 
You  are  :  from  them  leaped  forth  an  architect, 
MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  4 


50  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Able  to  talk  of  Euclid,  and  correct 

Both  him  and  Archimede  ;  damn  Archytas, 

The  noblest  engineer  that  ever  was : 

Control  Ctesibius,  overbearing  us 

With  mistook  names  out  of  Vitruvius ; 

Drawn  Aristotle  on  us,  and  thence  shown 

How  much  Architectonice  is  your  own ! 

Whether  the  building  of  the  stage  or  scene, 

Or  making  of  the  properties  it  mean, 

Vizors  or  antics  ;  or  it  comprehend 

Something  your  sir-ship  doth  not  yet  intend. 

By  all  your  titles,  and  whole  style  at  once, 

Of  tireman,  mountebank  and  Justice  Jones, 

I  do  salute  you :  are  you  fitted  yet  ? 

WTill  any  of  these  express  your  place,  or  wit  ? 

Or  are  you  so  ambitious  'bove  your  peers, 

You'd  be  an  Assinigo  by  your  ears  ? 

Why  much  good  do't  you ;  be  what  part  you  will, 

You'll  be,  as  Langley  said,  '  an  Inigo  still.' 

What  makes  your  wretchedness  to  bray  so  loud 

In  town  and  court  ?     Are  you  grown  rich,  and  proud  ? 

Your  trappings  will  not  change  you,  change  your  mind ; 

No  velvet  suit  you  wear  will  alter  kind. 

A  wooden  dagger  is  a  dagger  of  wood, 

Nor  gold,  nor  ivory  haft  can  make  it  good. 

What  is  the  cause  you  pomp  it  so,  I  ask? 

And  all  men  echo,  you  have  made  a  mask. 

I  chime  that  too,  and  I  have  met  with  those 

That  do  cry  up  the  machine,  and  the  shows : 


Introduction  51 

The  majesty  of  Juno  in  the  clouds, 

And  peering  forth  of  Iris  in  the  shrouds ; 

The  ascent  of  lady  Fame,  which  none  could  spy, 

Nor  they  that  sided  her,  dame  Poetry, 

Dame  History,  dame  Architecture  too, 

And  goody  Sculpture,  brought  with  much  ado. 

To  hold  her  up  !  O  shows,  shows,  mighty  shows  ! 

The  eloquence  of  masques  !  what  need  of  prose 

Or  verse,  or  prose  t'  express  immortal  you  ? 

You  are  the  spectacles  of  state,  'tis  true, 

Court-hieroglyphics,  and  all  arts  afford, 

In  the  mere  perspective  of  an  inch-board ; 

You  ask  no  more  than  certain  politic  eyes, 

Eyes,  that  can  pierce  into  the  mysteries 

Of  many  colours,  read  them  and  reveal 

Mythology,  there  painted  on  slit  deal. 

Or  to  make  boards  to  speak !     There  is  a  task ! 

Painting  and  carpentry  are  the  soul  of  masque. 

jPack  with  your  peddling  poetry  to  the  stage, 

This  is  the  money-got  mechanic  age. 

To  plant  the  music  where  no  ear  can  reach, 

Attire  the  persons,  as  no  thought  can  teach 

Sense,  what  they  are,  which  by  a  specious,  fine 

Term  of  [you]  architects,  is  called  Design ; 

But  in  the  practised  truth,  destruction  is 

Of  any  art,  besides  what  he  calls  his. 

Whither,  O  whither  will  this  tireman  grow  ? 

His  name  is  SK^I/OTTOIO?,  we  all  know, 

The  maker  of  the  properties ;  in  sum, 


52  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

The  scene,  the  engine ;  but  he  now  is  come 

To  be  the  music-master  ;  tabler  too ; 

He  is,  or  would  be,  the  main  Dominus  Do  — 

All  of  the  work,  and  so  shall  still  for  Ben, 

Be  Inigo,  the  whistle,  and  his  men. 

He's  warm  on  his  feet,  now  he  says ;  and  can 

Swim  without  cork :  why,  thank  the  good  Queen  Anne. 

I  am  too  fat  to  envy,  he  too  lean, 

To  be  worth  envy ;  henceforth  I  do  mean 

To  pity  him,  as  smiling  at  his  feat 

Of  lantern-lerry,  with  fuliginous  heat 

Whirling  his  whimsies,  by  a  subtilty 

Sucked  from  the  veins  of  shop-philosophy. 

What  would  he  do  now,  giving  his  mind  that  way, 

In  presentation  of  some  puppet-play, 

Should  but  the  king  his  justice-hood  employ, 

In  setting  forth  of  such  a  solemn  toy  ? 

How  would  he  firk *  like  Adam  Overdo,2 

Up  and  about ;  dive  into  cellars  too, 

Disguised,  and  thence  drag  forth  Enormity, 

Discover  Vice,  commit  Absurdity : 

Under  the  moral,  show  he  had  a  pate 

Moulded  or  stroked  up  to  survey  a  state  1 

O  wise  surveyor,  wiser  architect, 

But  wisest  Inigo ;  who  can  reflect 

On  the  new  priming  of  thy  old  sign-posts, 

Reviving  with  fresh  colours  the  pale  ghosts 

Of  thy  dead  standards  ;  or  with  marvel  see 

1  To  move  quickly,  a  In  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair. 


Introduction  53 

Thy  twice  conceived,  thrice  paid  for  imagery, 

And  not  fall  down  before  it,  and  confess 

Almighty  Architecture,  who  no  less 

A  goddess  is,  than  painted  cloth,  deal  board, 

Vermilion,  lake,  or  crimson  can  afford 

Expression  for ;  with  that  unbounded  line, 

Aimed  at  in  thy  omnipotent  design ! 

What  poesy  e'er  was  painted  on  a  wall, 

That  might  compare  with  thee  ?     What  story  shall, 

Of  all  the  worthies,  hope  t'  outlast  thy  own, 

So  the  materials  be  of  Purbeck  stone  ? 

Live  long  the  feasting-room  !     And  ere  thou  burn 

Again,  thy  architect  to  ashes  turn  ; 

Whom  not  ten  fires,  nor  a  parliament  can 

With  all  remonstrance,  make  an  honest  man. " 

VI.   LYCIDAS 

"  In  this  Monody  the  Author  bewails  a  learned  Friend, 
unfortunately  drowned  in  his  passage  from  Chester  on 
the  Irish  Seas,  1637  ;  and,  by  occasion,  foretells  the  ruin 
of  our  corrupted  Clergy,  then  in  their  height."  This 
brief  introduction  to  the  contribution  made  by  John  Mil- 
ton to  the  collection  of  elegies  in  honour  of  Edward  King, 
his  successful  rival  for  the  Trinity  College  fellowship,  was 
inserted  in  the  1645  edition  of  his  poems,  and  is  still  the 
best  account  and  the  most  adequate  criticism  of  the  poem. 
Lycidas  is  less  dramatic  than  Arcades,  and  Arcades  is 
hardly  dramatic  enough  to  merit  the  name  of  pastoral  as 


54  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

the  Italians  understood  it.  The  sorrow  it  expresses  is, 
indeed,  dignified  and  intelligent,  but  it  is  courteous 
rather  than  lamentable,  and  too  often  the  intelligent 
dignity  of  sorrow  is  resented.  The  "  learned  Friend " 
is,  indeed,  rarely  bewailed,  but  the  reader  forgets  all 
about  the  dead  Edward  King  in  growing  sympathy  with 
the  living  "  Author  "  and  his  vision  of  a  corrupted  clergy. 
Milton  had,  to  be  sure,  good  authority  for  such  blending 
of  themes  and  forms.  And  he  perhaps  did  well  to  limit 
his  title  to  the  term  "  monody."  Theocritus  of  Syracuse 
depicted  a  country  life  whose  ideals  were  as  different 
from  those  of  the  actual  goatherd  as  the  simplicity  he 
praised  was  remote  from  poverty  and  monotony.  Virgil, 
while  professing  to  employ  the  form  of  the  Greek  pasto- 
ral, openly  advocated  "  a  somewhat  loftier  strain.'*  The 
Italians  of  the  Renaissance  introduced  a  vein  of  moraliz- 
ing and  satire.  Edmund  Spenser  had  made  his  rustics 
natural  philosophers  and  poets.  Doctor  Johnson  and 
critics  of  his  type  can  not  or  will  not  understand  all  this, 
and  they  will  still  be  saying  with  him  "  passion  runs  not 
after  remote  allusions  and  obscure  opinions,"  and  "  where 
there  is  leisure  for  fiction  there  is  little  grief."  "  Like, 
very  like,"  but  there  may  be  great  poetry.  When  the 
"  sea  of  emotion "  has  "  curdled  into  thoughts "  the 
reader  does  not  inquire  too  closely  whether  the  "un- 
packing of  the  heart "  has  been  necessary  to  the  writer's 
existence  or  not,  or  even  whether  it  has  been  spontane- 
ous and  sincere.  It  is  enough  that  it  serves  the  reader's 
well  being  and  ministers  to  his  comfort  and  good  estate. 


Introduction  55 

Milton  wrote  no  less  than  the  literal  truth  when  he  said  : 
"  You  ask  what  I  am  thinking  of  ?  So  may  the  Good 
Deity  help  me;  of  immortality  —  I  am  pluming  my 
wings  and  meditating  flight."  Of  course  this  amounts 
to  saying  that  Milton  was  writing  great  lyric  poetry  in 
motive,  whatever  the  form  adopted  might  seem  to  require. 
And  perhaps  it  is  not  his  least  title  to  greatness  that  he 
could  and  did  forget  Edward  King.  For  it  must  be 
remembered  that  here  was  no  strong  and  intimate  bond 
of  personal  friendship,  such  as  existed  between  the  young 
Tennyson  and  Arthur  Hallam,  nor  such  fabled  poet-love 
"this  side  idolatry"  as  unites  the  names  of  Shelley  and 
Keats,  but  an  acquaintance  fairly  described  probably  as 
academic.  Members  of  the  same  university,  King  was 
Milton's  junior.  There  is  no  evidence  that  Milton  was 
particularly  drawn  to  King's  person  or  interests.  The 
assignment  of  a  fellowship  to  King,  for  which  Milton  him- 
self was  eligible,  is  even  looked  upon  by  some  students 
of  Milton  as  ground  for  coolness  between  them.  There 
is  clear  evidence  that  the  fellowship  was  awarded  to  King 
by  royal  influence  and  not  in  due  course  of  academic 
appreciation.  Probably  Milton's  own  account  is  sufficiently^ 
accurate,  when  due  allowance  has  been  made  for  the 
large  and  remote  phraseology  characteristic  of  Milton's 
muse  : 

"  For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  self-same  hill, 
Fed  the  same  flock,  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill ; 
Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appeared 
Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  Morn, 


56  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

We  drove  a-field,  and  forth  together  heard 

What  time  the  grey  fly  winds  her  sultry  horn, 

Battening  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 

Oft  till  the  star  that  rose  at  evening  bright 

Toward  Heaven's  descent  had  sloped  his  westering  wheel. 

Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute; 

Tempered  to  the  oaten  flute 

Rough  Satyrs  danced,  and  Fauns  with  cloven  heel 

From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long; 

And  old  Damoetas  loved  to  hear  our  song." 

Here  certainly  is  described  the  dignified  association  of 
persons  congenially  and  worthily  occupied,  but  there  is 
certainly  nothing  of  the  fellowship  of  kindred  minds, 
still  less  of  the  love  of  attached  hearts.  Milton  wrote 
very  differently  of  his  father  and  of  Charles  Diodati, 
when  he  wished  to  record  personal  friendship. 

The  memorial  volume  of  which  this  poem  was  part 
appeared  in  1638.  It  contained  twenty-three  poems  in 
Latin  and  Greek,  and  thirteen  English  poems,  with  the 
title,  Obsequies  to  the  Memorie  of  Mr.  Edward  King, 
Anno  Dom.,  1638.  Other  contributors  to  the  memorial 
were  Henry  King,  Henry  More,  the  Platonist,  and  John 
Cleveland. 

VII.   THE  STORY  OF  THE  TEXT 

The  visitor  to  the  Library  of  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge, is  likely  to  have  his  attention  called  to  the  hand- 
somely bound  volume  of  forty-seven  manuscript  pages, 
once  described  as  "  Milton's  Juvenile  Poems,  etc.,  seem- 


Introduction  57 

ingly  the  original."     The  history  of  this  volume  is  indi- 
cated by  the  Latin  inscription  on  the  first  cover. 

Membra  haec  Erudissimi  et  paene  Divini  Poetae  olim 
misere  disjecta  et  passim  sparsa,  postea  verb  fortuitb 
Inventa  et  in  unum  denub  collecta  a  Carolo  Mason  ejus 
Col.  So  do  6°  inter  miscellanea  reposita,  deinceps,  ed,  qua 
decuit,  Religione  servari  voluit  Thomas  Clarke,  nuperrime 
hujusce  collegii  nunc  vero  Medii  Templi  Londini  Socius 


[These  fragments  of  a  most  learned  and  nearly  divine 
poet,  formerly  miserably  broken  apart  and  scattered  about, 
but  afterwards  by  chance  found  and  recently  collated  by 
Charles  Mason,  Fellow  of  the  same  College  and  replaced 
among  the  Miscellanies,  are  at  last  to  be  preserved  with 
proper  reverence  as  directed  by  Thomas  Clarke,  very 
recently  of  this  College,  now  of  the  Middle  Temple, 
London,  1736.] 

The  earlier  history  of  the  manuscripts  themselves  is 
partly  a  matter  of  conjecture,  partly  material  of  record  or 
of  well  established  tradition.  As  far  back  as  the  later 
years  of  Milton's  student  life  at  Cambridge,  he  had  kept  a 
notebook  of  the  first  drafts  of  his  compositions  in  English, 
Latin,  prose,  and  poetry.  The  first  edition  of  his  poems 
was  advertised  to  be  "  printed  by  his  true  copies."  Up 
to  1658  these  manuscripts  were  in  Milton's  possession,  the 
later  work  being  in  the  handwriting  of  an  amanuensis. 
These  and  certain  other  manuscripts  came  into  the  keep- 
ing of  Milton's  wife  at  his  death  in  1674,  and  were  lost 
sight  of.  By  some  unknown  means,  Sir  Henry  Newton 


58  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Puckering,  a  considerable  benefactor  of  the  Trinity  Col- 
lege Library,  is  believed  to  have  obtained  possession  of 
this  particular  manuscript.  Charles  Mason,  the  Wood- 
wardian  Professor  of  Geology,  and  probably  the  person 
who  best  knew  the  Library,  is  the  authority  for  the  belief 
that  the  Milton  manuscript  was  part  of  the  collection  of 
four  thousand  books  and  manuscripts  given  by  Sir  Henry 
Puckering  in  1691  to  the  Trinity  College  Library.  It  is 
somewhat  noteworthy  that  the  catalogue  by  Bernard  in 
1697  makes  no  mention  of  the  Milton  manuscript.  When 
Mason  discovered  the  leaves  they  were  loose.  After 
they  were  bound,  as  described  on  the  first  leaf  of  the 
cover,  they  were  treated  with  too  little  care.  The  volume 
was  too  often  shown  to  visitors.  They  were  allowed  to 
handle  it  too  freely,  and  the  result  was  that  some  of  the 
readings  are  illegible;  some  necessary  patching  and  repair- 
ing has  been  roughly  done,  and  a  slip  of  paper  contain- 
ing seventeen  lines  of  emended  reading  for  a  passage  in 
Comus  has  been  lost. 

At  present  the  manuscript  is  much  more  carefully 
treated.  It  is  kept  in  a  glass  case  and  may  be  removed 
for  examination  only  by  permission  from  the  Master  and 
Fellows  of  Trinity  College,  and  in  the  presence  of  one 
of  the  Fellows. 

With  the  generosity  of  true  scholarship  the  Council  of 
Trinity  College  determined  to  put  this  manuscript  within 
the  reach  of  a  larger  number  of  students  than  could 
hope  to  study  it  in  their  library,  by  a  photographic  and 
transliterated  reproduction  prepared  under  the  superin- 


Introduction  59 

tendance  of  William  Aldis  Wright.  The  photographic 
work  was  done  by  Mr.  A.  G.  Dew-Smith  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege. The  Preface,  1899,  makes  the  following  interesting 
statements  and  comments : 

"  I  thought  I  should  do  a  greater  service  to  students 
of  Milton  if,  instead  of  merely  recording  the  variations 
between  the  manuscript  and  the  printed  text,  I  enabled 
them  to  ascertain  the  variations  for  themselves.  .  .  .  The 
Arcades  with  which  the  manuscript  begins,  was  probably 
written  in  1633.  .  .  .  After  Milton  had  written  Comus  in 
1634,  Lycidas  in  1637  .  .  .he  appears  to  have  gone  back 
to  his  first  quire  and  made  use  of  one  of  its  blank  pages 
for  ...  three  Sonnets  .  .  .  which  belong  to  the  period 
1642-1644  or  5.  Pages  45,  46,  and  47  are  the  work  of 
three  amanuenses,  whose  handwritings  differ  from  each 
other  and  from  the  three  handwritings  which  are  not 
Milton's  on  the  preceding  pages.  Among  these  six,  both 
Peck  and  Warton  profess  to  recognize  five  as  the  hand- 
writing of  five  different  women.  I  see  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  they  are  not  all  the  work  of  men's  hands.  .  .  . 

"  It  would  be  a  matter  of  regret  if  the  publication  of 
these  facsimiles  should  have  the  same  effect  upon  those 
who  examine  them  which  the  sight  of  the  originals  ap- 
pears to  have  produced  upon  Charles  Lamb.  In  a  note 
which  was  at  first  appended  to  his  Essay  on  Oxford  in 
the  Vacation,  he  says,  '  I  had  thought  of  the  Lycidas 
as  of  a  full-grown  beauty  —  as  springing  up  with  all  its 
parts  absolute  —  till,  in  an  evil  hour,  I  was  shown  the 
original  copy  of  it,  together  with  the  other  minor  poems 


60  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

of  the  author,  in  the  library  of  Trinity,  kept  like  some 
treasure  to  be  proud  of.  I  wish  they  had  thrown  them 
in  the  Cam,  or  sent  them  after  the  latter  Cantos  of 
Spenser,  into  the  Irish  Channel.  How  it  staggered  me 
to  see  the  fine  things  in  their  ore  !  interlined,  corrected  ! 
as  if  their  words  were  mortal,  alterable,  displaceable  at 
pleasure  !  as  if  they  might  have  been  otherwise,  and  just 
as  good  !  As  if  inspiration  were  made  up  of  parts,  and 
these  fluctuating,  successive,  indifferent !  I  will  never  go 
into  the  workshop  of  any  great  artist  again/  Many  nev- 
ertheless will  find  pleasure  in  contemplating  the  second 
thoughts  of  the  poet,  or  even  the  third,  which  we  are  told 
by  a  prophet  of  the  order  are  a  riper  first." 

These  manuscripts  are  of  the  highest  interest,  not  only 
to  the  curious  hunter  after  relics  of  the  past,  but  to  the 
student  of  literary  masterpieces  in  the  making.  Some  of 
the  ways  of  genius  are  not  past  finding  out.  The  verses 
reproduced  in  a  slightly -reduced  form  for  the  frontispiece 
of  this  book  are  an  interpolation  made  by  Milton  at  the 
close  of  the  one  hundred  and  forty-first  verse  of  the 
Lycidas.  The  new  matter  is  connected  with  the  main 
body  of  the  poem  by  a  heavy  slanting  stroke  of  the  pen, 
and  the  words  written  in  on  the  margin,  "  Bring  the 
rathe,"  etc. 

The  reproduction  shows  the  various  readings  from  a 
rejected  trial  form  through  succeeding  tentatives  until 
the  final  form  of  the  poem,  as  the  reader  is  familiar 
with  it,  was  reached.  The  rejected  form  reads  as 
follows : 


Introduction  61 

Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  unwedded  dies 

Collu  colouring  the  pale  cheeke  of  uninjoyd  love 

and  that  sad  floure  that  strove 

to  write  his  owne  woes  on  the  vermeil  graine 

next  adde  Narcissus  y*  still  weeps  in  vaine 

the  woodbine  and  ye  pancie  freak't  wtb  jet 

the  glowing  violet 

the  cowslip  wan  that  hangs  his  pensive  head 

and  every  bud  that  sorrow's  liverie  weares 

let  Daff ad illies  fill  thire  cups  with  teares 

bid  Amaranthus  all  his  beautie  shed 

to  strew  the  laureat  herse,  etc. 

The  later  stages  appear  thus  : 

Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies 
the  tufted  crowtoe  and  pale  Gessamin 

ye 

the  white  pinke  and  ^  pansie  freakt  wth  jet 
the  glowing  violet      the  well  attir'd  woodbine 
the  muske  rose  and  the  garish  columbine 
wth  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head 

x     '      weare  z  wear«s 

and  every  flower  that  sad  escutcheon  ^  b tares  imbroidrie  beares 
bid  Amaranthus  all  his  beauties  shed 
&  let  daffadillies  fill  thire  cups  wth  teares 
to  strew,  etc. 

Examination  and  comparison  of  the  readings  show  : 

1.  The  lines  originally  "  made  sense."     The  inserted 
verses   are  therefore   pure   elaboration,  as   the   passage 
concludes  in  verse  151  precisely  as  it  did  before  the 
change. 

2.  Milton  prepared  for  the  new  material,  or  justified  its 
insertion,  after  revision,  by  the  change  in  verse  139,  in  the 


62  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

original  draft,  of  the  word  "  Bring  "  to  the  present  one 
"Throw." 

3.  The  only  feature  of  the  passage  that  remains  con- 
stant through  all  changes  is  the  structure  of  the  verse  ;  its 
framework   or   anatomy,  and   its  vocal  harmony.     The 
movement  of  the  lines  affords  a  form  of  verbal  counter- 
point of  which  the  short  line  "  The  glowing  violet  "  was 
the  invariable  factor. 

4.  The  verbal  changes  are  made  in  the  interests  of 
sound  and  various  suggested  associations  rather  than  of 
the  combination  of  popular  science  and  visual  accuracy, 
known  since  Wordsworth's  time  as  "  love  of  Nature." 

5.  The  entire  passage  in  its  final  form  shows  the  tri- 
umph of  the  "  mixture  of  a  lie  that  ever  gives  pleasure  " 
over  the  elements  of  pure  thought  and  exact  record. 

6.  Milton's  final  preference  is  always  for  words  that 
embody   force   rather   than   for   those   that   express   an 
appeal  to  the  eyes  exclusively. 

7.  The  main  trend  of  change  is  toward  the  social  and 
human  aspect  of  life  rather  than  toward  the  spectacular 
or  sentimental. 

8.  The  whole  passage,  as  an   elaboration,  affords  an 
illustration  of  the  dramatic  factor  in  pastoral  elegy.     It 
illustrates  Milton's  lack  of  dramatic  spontaneity,  but  his 
abounding  sense  of  poetic  propriety.     Doubtless  if  Soph- 
ocles could  have  brought  himself  to  this  pass,  he  would 
have  rejected  and  changed  with  as  resolute  conscience 
as  that  shown  here.    But  Sophocles  was  not  only  classic 
but  dramatic. 


Introduction  63 

9.  The  temper  of  the  passage,  the  method  of  its 
construction,  and  the  aims  made  evident  by  the  changes 
accepted  or  rejected  after  trial  show  the  extent  to  which 
Milton  was  really  indebted  to  his  study  of  Greek  and 
Latin  masterpieces.  The  student  of  the  classics  in  Greek 
and  Latin  should  compare  carefully  Milton's  use  of  adjec- 
tives and  verbs  with  that  of  his  alleged  models. 


MILTON'S    MINOR    POEMS 

L'ALLEGRO 

HENCE,  loathed  Melancholy, 

Of  Cerberua  and  blackest  Midnight  born    , 
In  Stygian  cave  forlorn, 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy  ! 
Find  out  some  uncouth1  cell,  5 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  2  wings, 
And  the  night-raven  sings  ; 

There  under  ebon  3  shades  and  low-browed  rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  dark  Cimmerian  desert  ever  dwell.  10 

But  come,  thou  Goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  heaven  yclept  Euphrosyne, 
And  by  men  heart-easing  Mirth; 
Whom  lovely  Venus,  at  a  birth, 

With  two  sister  Graces  more,  15 

To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore  : 
Or  whether  —  as  some  sager4  sing  — 
The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  spring, 
Zephyr,  with  Aurora  playing, 
As  he  met  her  once  a-Maying,  20 


1  Uncanny.  2  Eeajful.  ,  ,  ,     8  Black,,  4  Wiser. 

MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  5     6^ 


66  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

There,  on  beds  of  violets  blue, 

And  fresh-blown,  roses  washed  in  dew, 

Filled  her  with  thee,  a  daughter  fair, 
^§o  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair.1 

Haste  thee,  Nymph,  and  bring  with  thee  25 

Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 

Quips  and  Cranks  and  wanton  Wiles, 

Nods  and  Becks  and  wreathed  Smiles, 

Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 

And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek ;  30 

Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 

And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 

Come,  and  -trip  it  as  you  go, 

On  the  light  fantastic2  toe ; 
"*And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee  35 

The  mountain-nymph,  sweet  Liberty ; 

And  if  I  give  thee  honour  due, 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew,3 

To  live  with  her  and  live  with  thee, 

In  unreproved  pleasures  free ;  40 

'  To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 

And,  singing,  startle  the  dull  night, 

From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 

Till  the  dappled 4  dawn  doth  rise ; 

Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  sorrow,  45 

And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow, 

Through  the  sweet-brier  or  the  vine, 

1  Affable,  gay  and  courteous.  2  Quaintly  dancing. 

8  Company.  -  4  Variegated. 


L'Allegro  67 

Or  the  twisted  eglantine  ; 

While  the  cock,  with  lively  din, 

Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin ;  50 

And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door 

Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before  : 

Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumb£Eitjg  morn, 

From  the  side  of  some  hoar l  hill, '  55 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill : 

Sometime  walking,  not  unseen, 

By  hedgerow  elms,  on  hillocks  green, 

Right  against  the  eastern  gate 

Where  the  great  Sun  begins  his  state,  60 

Robed  in  flames  and  amber  light, 

The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight ; 2 

While  the  ploughman,  near  at  hand, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land, 

And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe,  65 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures, 

Whilst  the  landskip  round  it  measures  :  70 

Russet  lawns  and  fallows 3  grey, 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray ; 

Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 

The  labouring  clouds  do  often  rest ; 

1  Old.  2  Adorned. 

3  Plowed  and  harrowed,  but  uncropped  ground. 


68  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Meadows  trim,  with  daisies  pied,1  75 

Shallow  brooks  and  Drivers  wide ; 

Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 

Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 

Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 

The  cynosure 2  of  neighbouring  eyes.  80 

Hard  by,  a  cottage  chimney  smokes 

From  betwixt  two  aged  oaks, 

Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis  met 

Are  at  their  savoury3  dinner  set 

Of  herbs  and  other  country  messes,  85 

Which  the  neat-handed  Phyllis  dresses ; 

And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves, 

^Vith  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves ; 

Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead, 

To  the  tanned 4  haycock  in  the  mead.  90 

Sometimes,  with  seciire/ delight, 

The  upland  hamlets  will  invite, 

When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 

And  the  jocund  rebecks5  sound 

To  many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid  95 

Dancing  in  the  chequered  shade, 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 

f         i  *  *        i 

Or)  a  sunshine  holiday, 

Till  the  livelong  daylight  fail :  y 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale,  100 

With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 

1  Spotted.  2  Centre  of  attraction.  8  Appetizing. 

4  Sun-dried.  5  Merry  fiddles. 


L'  Allegro  69 

How  Faery  Mab  the  junkets  l  eat.  ^ 

She  was  pinched  and  pulled,  she  said ; 

And  he,  by  Friar's  lantern  led, 

Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat  105 

To  earn^his  cr^am-bowl  duly  set, 

When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 

His  shadowy  flail  hath  threshed  the  corn 

*  /  /  / 

That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end ; 

Then  lies  him  down,  the  lubber  fiend,  no 

And,  stretched  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks 2  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength, 
And  crop-full  out  of  doors  he  flings 
Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin 3  rings. 
''Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep,  115 

By  whispering  winds  soon  lulled  asleep. 
Towered  cities  please  us  then, 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men, 
Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 
In  weeds 4  of  peace,  high  triumphs  hold,  120 

With  sj:ore  o^f  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 
Rain  influence,5  and  judge  the  r^rize 
Of  wit  or  arms,  while  both,  contend 

To  win  her  grace  whom  all  commend. 

/  /  / 

There  let  Hymen  oft  appear    /  125 

In  saffron 6  robe,  wjth  taper  clear. 
And  pomp,  and  feast,  andxrevelry, 
With  mask,  and  antique  pageantry,7 

1  Sweetened  curds.          2  Makes  comfortable.          8  Morning  song. 
*  Clothes.  5  Give  strength.  6  Yellow.  7  Show. 


yo  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

/  /  y 

Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 

On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream.  130 

s  f  /  /  y 

Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 

If  Jonson's  learned  sock l  be  on,       y 

Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancj's  child, 

Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

And  ever,  against  eatmg  cares,  135 

Lap  me  m  soft  Lydian  airs, 

Married  to  immortal  verse, 
/      ^  i.         /     t.      /     '  <_     f 

Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce, 

In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 2 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out  140 

With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 

The  melting  yoice  through  mazes  running, 

Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 

The  hidden  soul  of  harmony  : 

/  /  /•*  / 

That  Orpheus'  self  may  heave  his  head  145 

From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 

Of  heaped  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear^ 

Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 

Of  Pluto  to  have  quite  set  free 

/          /  11 

tlis  half-regained  Eurydice.  150 

The^e  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mirth,  with  triee  I  mean  to  live. 


1  The  low  shoe  worn  in  comedy.  2  Turn. 


II  Penseroso  71 


IL  PENSEROSO 

/  /          j 

HENCE,  vain  deluding  Joys, 

The  brood  of  Folly  without  father  bred  ! 
How  little  you  bested,1 

Or  fill  the  fixe^i  mind  with  all  your  toys  ! 
Dwell  in  some  idle  brain,  ,  5 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 
As  thick  and  numberless 

As  the  gay  .motes  that  people  the  sunbeams, 
Or  likest  hovering  dreams, 

The  fickle  pensioners  of  Morpheus'  tram.         10 
But  hail,  thou  Goddess  sage  and  holy, 
Hail,  divinest  Melancholy  ! 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 
And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view  15 

O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue ; 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem, 
Or  that  starred  Ethiop  queen  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above  20 

The  Sea-Nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended. 
Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended  : 
Thee  bright-haired  Vesta  long  of  yore 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore  ; 
His  daughter  she  ;  in  Saturn's  reign  25 

i  Help. 


72  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain. 

Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 

He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 

Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 

Whilst  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove.  30 

Come,  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure, 

Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure, 

All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain,1 

Flowing  with  majestic  train, 

And  sable  stole2  of  cypress  lawn  35 

Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 

Come  ;  but  keep  thy  wonted  state, 

With  even  step  and  musing  gait, 

And  looks  commercing3  with  the  skies, 

Thy  rapt 4  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes  :  40 

There,  held  in  holy  passion  still, 

Forget  thyself  to  marble,5  till 

With  a  sad  leaden  downward  cast6 

Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast. 

And  join  with  thee  calm  Peace  and  Quiet,  45 

Spare  Fast,  that  oft  with  gods  doth  diet, 

And  hears  the  Muses  in  a  ring 

Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing ; 

And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 

That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure ;  50 

But,  first  and  chiefest,  with  thee  bring 

Him  that  yon7  soars  on  golden  wing, 

1  Colour.  2  Mantle.  8  Communing.  *  Absorbed. 

6  Turn  to  marble.  6  Look.  7  Yonder. 


II  Penseroso  '  73 

Guiding  the  fiery-wheeled  throne, 

The  Cherub  Contemplation; 

And  the  mute  Silence  hist 1  along,  55 

'Less 2  Philomel  will  deign  a  song 

In  her  sweetest,  saddest  plight, 

Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  Night, 

While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke 

Gently  o'er  the  accustomed  oak.  60 

Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 

Most  musical,  most  melancholy  ! 

Thee,  chauntress,  oft  the  woods  among 

I  woo,  to  hear  thy  even-song; 

And,  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen  65 

On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 

To  behold  the  wandering  moon, 

Riding  near  her  highest  noon,3 

Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 

Through  the  heaven's  wide  pathless  way,  70 

And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bowed, 

Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 

Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 

I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound 

Over  some  wide- watered  shore,  75 

Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar ; 

if  the  air  will  not  permit, 
Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 
Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 
Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom,  80 

1  Stilled,  hushed.          2  Unless.         8  Point,  power,  prime. 


74  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth, 

Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 

Or  the  bellman's *  drowsy  charm 

To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm. 

Or  let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour  85 

Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 

Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear, 

With  thrice-great  Hergjes,  or  unsphere 2 

The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 

What  worlds  or  what  vast  regions  hold  90 

The  immortal  mind  that  hath  forsook 

Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook  ; 3 

And  of  those  demons  that  are  found 

In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  underground, 

Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent  95 

With  planet  or  with  element. 

Sometime  let  gorgeous  Tragfiply 

In  sceptredjDall 4  come  sweeping  by, 

Presenting  Twines  or  Peeps'  line, 

Or  the  tale  of  Tr^y  divine,  100 

Or  what  —  though  rare  —  of  later  age 

Ennobled  hath  the  buskined 5  stage. 

But,  O  sad  Virgin  !  that  thy  power 

Might  raise  Museeus  from  his  bower ; 

Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing  105 

Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string, 

Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 

1  Watchman's.  2  Bring  back.  8  Place. 

4  Royal  maptle,         6  From  the  high  boot  worn  in  tragedy. 


II  Penseroso  75 

And  made  Hell  grant  what  love  did  seek ; 

Or  call  up  him  that  left  half-told 

The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 

Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 

And  who  had  Canace  to  wife, 

That  owned  the  virtuous l  ring  and  glass, 

And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass 

On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride ;  115 

And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 

In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung, 

Of  turneys  and  of  trophies  hung, 

Of  forests,  and  enchantments  drear,  .   ^ 

Where_morejs  meant  than  meets  the_ear.  o  •  ''120     M_ 

Thus,  Night,  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 

Till  civiJiSuited 2  Morn  appear, 

Not  tricked  and  frounced 3  as  she  was  wont 

With  the  Attic  boy  to  hunt, 

But  kerchieft  in  a  comely  cloud,  125 

While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud, 

Or  ushered  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 

With  minute  4-drops  from  off  the  eaves.  130 

And  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  Goddess,  bring 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 

And  shadows  brown,  that  Silvan  loves, 

1  Magic.  2  Plain-dressed. 

8  Flounced.  *  Slow. 


76  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Of  pine  or  monumental1  oak,  135 

Where  the  rude  axe  with  heaved  stroke 

Was  never  heard  the  Nynjphs  to  daunt, 

Or  fright  them  from  their  hallowed  haunt. 

There  in  close  covert  by  some  brook, 

Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look,  140 

Hide  me  from  day's  garish 2  eye, 

While  the  bee  with  honeyed  thigh, 

That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing, 

And  the  waters  murmuring, 

With  such  coosgrt 3  as  they  keep,  145 

Entice  the  dewy-feathered  Sleep. 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream 

Wave  at  his  wings,  in  airy  stream 

Of  lively  portraiture  displayed, 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid;  150 

And,  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath, 

Sent  by  some  Spirit  to  mortals  good, 

Or  the  unseen  Genius  of  the  wood. 

But  let  my  due 4  feet  never  fail  155 

To  walk  the  studious  cloj^-'s  pale/ 

And  love  the  high  em^gwed 6  roof, 

With  antique  pillars  massy^proof,7 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight,8 

Casting  *<$  dim  religious  light^^  160 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow 

1  Lofty.  2  Glaring,  staring.  8  Company.  *  Punctual. 

6  Limit.  6  Arched.  7  Strong.  8  Adorned. 


II  Penseroso  77 

To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 

In  service  high  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies,  165 

And  bring  all  Heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 

Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 

The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell, 

Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell  170 

Of  every  star  that  Heaven  doth  show, 

And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew, 

Till  old  experience  do  attain 

To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give,  175 

And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


78  Milton's  Minor  Poems 


ARCADES 

Part  of  an  Entertainment  presented  to  the  Countess  Dowager  of 
Derby,  at  Harefield,  by  some  Noble  Persons  of  her  Family ;  who 
appear  on  the  Scene  in  pastoral  habit,  moving  toward  the  seat  of 
state,  with  this  song: 

I.   SONG 

LOOK,  Nymphs  and  Shepherds,  look  ! 
What  sudden  blaze  of  majesty 
Is  that  which  we  from  hence  descry,1 
Too  divine  to  be  mistook? 

This,  this  is  she  5 

To  whom  our  vows  and  wishes  bend ; 2 
Here  our  solemn  search  hath  end. 

Fame,  that  her  high  worth  to  raise 

Seemed  erst 3  so  lavish  and  profuse, 

We  may  justly  now  accuse  10 

Of  detraction  from  her  praise;. 

Less  than  half  we  find  expressed ; 

Envy  bid  conceal  the  rest. 

Mark  what  radiant  state  she  spreads 
In  circle  round  her  shining  throne,  15 

Shooting  her  beams  like  silver  threads ; 
This,  this  is  she  alone, 

Sitting  like  a  goddess  bright 

In  the  centre  of  her  light. 

1  See.  2  Turn.  8  Once. 


Arcades  79 

Might  she  the  wise  Latona  be,  20 

Or  the  towered  Cybele, 

Mother  of  a  hundred  gods? 

Juno  dares  not  give  her  odds ; 

Who  had  thought  this  clime  had  held 

A  deity  so  unparalleled  ?  25 

As  they  come  forward  the  GENIUS  OF  THE  WOOD  appears, 
and,  turning  toward  them,  speaks. 

Genius.  Stay,  gentle  Swains,  for  though  in  this  disguise, 
I  see  bright  honour  sparkle  through  your  eyes ; 
Of  famous  Arcady  ye  are,  and  sprung 
Of  that  renowned  flood  so  often  sung, 
Divine  Alpheus,  who  by  secret  sluice  30 

Stole  under  seas  to  meet  his  Arethuse ; 
And  ye,  the  breathing  roses  of  the  wood, 
Fair  silver-buskined l  Nymphs,  as  great  and  good, 
I  know  this  quest  of  yours  and  free  intent 
Was  all  in  honour  and  devotion  meant  35 

To  the  great  mistress  of  yon  princely  shrine, 
Whom  with  low  reverence  I  adore  as  mine, 
And  with  all  helpful  service  will  comply 
To  further  this  night's  glad  solemnity, 
And  lead  ye  where  ye  may  more  near  behold  40 

What  shallow-searching 2  Fame  hath  left  untold ; 
Which  I  full  oft,  amidst  these  shades  alone, 
Have  sat  to  wonder  at,  and  gaze  upon : 

1  Silver-shod.  2  Careless. 


8o  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

For  know,  by  lot  from  Jove,  I  am  the  power 

Of  this  fair  wood,  and  live  in  oaken  bower,  45 

To  nurse  the  saplings  tall,  and  curl 1  the  grove 

With  ringlets  quaint  and  wanton  windings  wove ; 

And  all  my  plants  I  save  from  nightly  ill 

Of  noisome 2  winds  and  blasting  vapours  chill ; 

And  from  the  boughs  brush  off  the  evil  dew,  50 

And  heal  the  harms  of  thwarting3  thunder  blue, 

Or  what  the  cross  dire-looking  planet  smites, 

Or  hurtful  worm  with  cankered  venom  bites. 

When  evening  grey  doth  rise,  I  fetch4  my  round 

Over  the  mount  and  all  this  hallowed  ground ;  55 

And  early,  ere  the  odorous  breath  of  morn 

Awakes  the  slumbering  leaves,  or  tasselled  horn 

Shakes  the  high  thicket,  haste  I  all  about, 

Number  my  ranks,  and  visit  every  sprout 

With  puissant 5  words  and  murmurs  made  to  bless.         60 

But  else,  in  deep  of  night,  when  drowsiness 

Hath  locked  up  mortal  sense,  then  listen  I 

To  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony, 

That  sit  upon  the  nine  infolded  spheres, 

And  sing  to  those  that  hold  the  vital 6  shears,  65 

And  turn  the  adamantine  spindle  round 

On  which  the  fate  of  gods  and  men  is  wound. 

Such  sweet  compulsion  doth  in  music  lie, 

To  lull  the  daughters  of  Necessity, 

And  keep  unsteady  Nature  to  her  law,  70 

1  Adorn.  2  Harmful.  3  Opposing. 

4  Complete.  6  Powerful.  6  Cutting  the  thread  of  life. 


Arcades  81 

And  the  low  world  in  measured  motion  draw, 

After  the  heavenly  tune,  which  none  can  hear 

Of  human  mould  with  gross  unpurged  ear ; 

And  yet  such  music  worthiest  were  to  blaze1 

The  peerless  height  of  her  immortal  praise  75 

Whose  lustre  leads  us,  and  for  her  most  fit, 

If  my  inferior  hand  or  voice  could  hit 

Inimitable  sounds.     Yet,  as  we  go, 

Whate'er  the  skill  of  lesser  gods  can  show 

I  will  assay,  her  worth  to  celebrate,  80 

And  so  attend  ye  toward  her  glittering  state ; 

Where  ye  may  all,  that  are  of  noble  stem,2 

Approach,  and  kiss  her  sacred  vesture's  hem. 

II.    SONG 

O'er  the  smooth  enamelled3  green 

Where  no  print  of  step  hath  been,  85 

Follow  me,  as  I  sing 

And  touch  the  warbled  string. 
Under  the  shady  roof 
Of  branching  elm  star-proof,4 

Follow  me.  90 

I  will  bring  you  where  she  sits, 
Clad  in  splendour  as  befits 

Her  deity. 
Such  a  rural  Queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen.  95 

1  Celebrate.        2  Descent.        8  Glossy.        4  Stars  can  not  pierce  it. 
MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  6 


82  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

III.    SONG 

Nymphs  and  Shepherds,  dance  no  more 

By  sandy  Ladon's  lilied  banks ; 
On  old  Lycaeus  or  Cyllene  hoar 

Trip  no  more  in  twilight  ranks ; 
Though  Erymanth  your  loss  deplore, 

A  better  soil  shall  give  ye  thanks. 
From  the  stony  Msenalus 
Bring  your  flocks,  and  live  with  us ; 
Here  ye  shall  have  greater  grace, 
To  serve  the  Lady  of  this  place. 
Though  Syrinx  your  Pan's  mistress  were, 
Yet  Syrinx  well  might  wait  on  her. 

Such  a  rural  Queen 

All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 


COMUS 

A   MASK 
PRESENTED  AT  LUDLOW  CASTLE,  1634 

BEFORE 

JOHN,  EARL  OF  BRIDGEWATER 
THEN  PRESIDENT  OF  WALES 


THE  PERSONS 

The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  afterwards  in  the  habit  of  THYRSIS. 

COM  us  with  his  Crew. 

The  LADY. 

First  BROTHER. 

Second  BROTHER. 

SABRINA,  the  Nymph. 

The  Chief  Persons  which  presented  were:  — 

The  Lord  Brackley. 

Mr.  Thomas  Egerton,  his  Brother. 

The  Lady  Alice  Egerton. 


COMUS 

The  First  Scene  discovers  a  wild  wood 
The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT  descends  or  enters 

Spirit.   Before  the  starry  threshold  of  Jove's  court 
My  mansion  is,  where  those  immortal  shapes 
Of  bright  aerial  spirits  live  insphered 
In  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air, 
Above  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this  dim  spot  5 

Which  men  call  Earth,  and,  with  low-thoughted  care, 
Confined  and  pestered  in  this  pinfold *  here, 
Strive  to  keep  up  a  frail  and  feverish  being, 
Unmindful  of  the  crown  that  Virtue  gives, 
After  this  mortal  change,  to  her  true  servants  10 

Amongst  the  enthroned  gods  on  sainted  seats. 
Yet  some  there  be  that  by  due  steps  aspire 
To  lay  their  just  hands  on  that  golden  key 
That  opes  the  palace  of  eternity. 

To  such  my  errand  is ;  and  but  for  such  15 

I  would  not  soil  these  pure  ambrosial  weeds 2 
With  the  rank  vapours  of  this  sin-worn  mould.3 

But  to  my  task.     Neptune,  besides  the  sway 
Of  every  salt  flood  and  each  ebbing  stream, 

1  Pound  for  cattle.        2  Heavenly  clothes.        8  Defiling  earth. 

85 


86  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Took  in,  by  lot,  'tvvixt  high  and  nether l  Jove,  20 

Imperial  rule  of  all  the  sea-girt  isles 
That,  like  to  rich  and  various  gems,  inlay 
The  unadorned  bosom  of  the  deep  ; 
Which  he,  to  grace  his  tributary  gods, 
By  course  commits  to  several  government,  25   . 

And  gives  them  leave  to  wear  their  sapphire  crowns 
And  wield  their  little  tridgnts.     But  this  Isle, 
The  greatest  and  the  best  of  all  the  ma1:;, 
He  quarters  to  his  blue- haired  deities  , 
And  all  this  tract  .that  fronts  the  falling  sun  30 

A  noble  Peer  of  mickle 2  trust  and  power 
Has  in  his  charge,  with  tempered  awe  to  guide 
^An  old  and  haughty  nation  proud  in  arms : 
where  his  fair  offspring,  nursed  in  princely  lore, 
Are  coming  to  attend  their  father's  state,  35 

And  new-intrusted  sceptre.3    But  their  way 
Lies  through  the  perplexed 4  paths  of  this  drear  wood, 
The  nodding  horror  of  whose  shady  brows 
Threats  the  forlorn  and  wandering  passenger ; 
And  here  their  tender  age  might  suffer  peril,  40 

But  that,  by  quick  command  from  sovran  Jove 
I  was  dispatched  for  their  defence  and  guard ; 
And  listen  why ;  for  I  will  tell  you  now 
What  never  yet  was  heard  in  tale  or  song, 
From  old  or  modern  bard,  in  hall  or  bower.  45 

Bacchus,  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grape 
CrushecT  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine, 

1  Lower.  2  Great.  8  Power.  *  Tangled. 


Comus  87 

After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transformed, 

Coasting  the  Tyrrhene  shore,  as  the  winds  listed,1 

On  Circe's  island  fell.  — Who  knows  not  Circe,  50 

The  daughter  of  the  Sun,  whose  charmed  cup 

Whoever  tasted  lost  his  upright  shape, 

And  downward  fell  into;  a  grovelling  swine  ?  — 

This  Nymph,  thaj:  gazed  upon  his  clustering  locks 

With  ivy  berries  wreathed  and  his  blithe  youth,  55 

Had  by  him,  ere  he  parted  thence,  a -son 

Much  like  his  father,  but  his  mother  more, 

Whom  therefore  she  brought  up,  and  Comus  named ; 

Who,  ripe  and  frolic  of  his  full-grown  age, 

Roving  the  Celtic  and  Iberian  fields,  60 

At  last  betakes  him  to  this  ominous 2  wood, 

And,  in  thick  shelter  of  black  shades  embowered, 

Excels  his  mother  at  her  mighty  art ;  ** 

Offering  to  every  weary  traveller 

His  orient3  liquor  in  a  crystal  glass,  65 

To  quench  the  drouth 4  of  Phoebus ;  which  as  they  taste  — 

For  most  do  taste  through  fond  intemperate  thirst  — 

Soon  as  the  potion  works,  their  human  countenance, 

The  express  resemblance  of  the  gods,  is  changed 

Into  some  brutish  form  of  wolf  or  bear,  70 

Or  oiyice 5  or  tiger,  hog,  or  bearded  goat, 

All  other  parts  remaining  as  they  were. 

And  they,  so  perfect  is  their  misery. 

.Not  once  perceive  their  foul  disfigurement, 

*  Pleased.  2  Enchanted.  8  Bright.  4  Thirst, 

6  Snow  leopard  or  mountain  panther. 


88  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

But  boast  themselves  more  comely  than  before,  75 

And  all  their  friends  and  native  home  forget, 

To  roll  with  pleasure  in  a  sensual  sty. 

Therefore,  when  any  favoured  of  high  Jove 

Chances  to  pass  through  this  adventurous ]  glade, 

Swift  as  the  sparkle  of  a  glancing  star  80 

I  shoot  from  heaven,  to  give  him  safe  convoy,2 

As  now  I  do.     But  first  I  must  put  off 

These  my  sky-robes  spun  out  of  Ijjs£  woof, 

And  take  the  weeds  and  likeness  of  a  swain 4 

That  to  the  service  of  this  house  belongs,  85 

Who,  with  his  soft  pipe  and  smooth-dittied  song, 

Well  knows  to  still  the  wild  winds  when  they  roar, 

And  hush  the  waving  woods ;  nor  of  less  faith, 

And  in  this  office  of  his  mountain  watch 

Likeliest,  and  nearest  to  the  present  aid  90 

Of  this  occasion.     But  I  hear  the  tread 

Of  hateful  steps ;  I  must  be  viewless  now. 

COMUS  enters  with  a  charming-rod  in  one  hand,  his  glass 
in  the  other ;  with  him  a  rout  of  monsters,  headed  like 
sundry  sorts  of  wild  beasts,  but  otherwise  like  men  and 
women,  their  apparel  glistering ;  they  come  in  making 
a  riotous  and  unruly  noise,  with  torches  in  their  hands. 

Comus.   The  star  that  bids  the  shepherd  fold 
Now  the  top  of  heaven  doth  hold ; 
And  the  gilded  car  of  day  95 

1  Dangerous.  2  Guidance.  8  Servant. 


Comus  89 

His  glowing  axle  doth  allay1       / 

In  the  steep 2  Atlantic  stream  ; 

And  the  slope  sun  his  upward  beam 

Shoots  against  the  dusky  pole, 

Pacing  toward  the  other  goal  100 

Of  his  chamber  in  the  east.  -^L^icJ^ 

Meanwhile,  welcome  joy  and  feast,     • 

Midnight  shout  and  revelry,  i 

Tipsy  dance  and  jollity  ! 

Braid  your  locks  with  rosy  twine,8  105 

Dropping  odours,  dropping  wine. 

Rigour  now  is  gone  to  bed ; 

And  Advice  with  scrupulous  head, 

Strict  Age,  and  sour  Severity, 

With  their  grave  s^ws,4  in  slumber  lie.  no 

We,  that  are  of  purer  fire, 

Imitate  the  starry  quire, 

Who,  in  their  nightly  watchful  spheres, 

Lead  in  swift  round  the  months  and  years. 

The  sounds  and  seas,  with  all  their  finny  drove,5  115 

Now  to  the  moon  in  wavering  morrice 6  move ; 

And  on  the  tawny 7  sands  and  shgjyes 8 

Trip  the  pert  fairies  and 'the  dapper  elves. 

By  dimpled  brook  and  fountain-brim 

The  wood-nymphs  decked  with  daisies  trim  1 

Their  merry  wakes  and  pastimes  keep  : 

What  hath  night  to  do  with  sleep? 

1  Temper.      2  Bright.      8  Garland.      4  Proverbs.      6  Fishes. 
6  Dance.  7  Yellow.  8  Beaches, 


90  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Night  hath  better  sweets  to  prove ; 

Vamrs  now  wakes,  and  wakens  Love. 

Come,  let  us  our  rites  begin  ;  125 

Tis  only  daylight  that  makes  sin, 

Which  these  duji1  shades  will  ne'er  report. 

Hail,  goddess  of  nocturnal  sport, 

Dark- veiled  Cotjtto,  to  whom  the  secret  flame 

Of  midnight  torches  burns  !  mysterious  dame,  130 

That  ne'er  art  called  but  when  the  dragon  womb 

Of  Stygian  darkness  spets 2  her  thickest  gloom, 

And  makes  one  blot  of  all  the  air  ! 

Stay  thy  cloudy  ebon  chair; 

Wherein  thou  rid'st  with  Hecat',  and  befriend  135 

Us  thy  vowed  priests,  till  utmost  end 

Of  all  thy  dues  be  done,  and  none  left  out ; 

Ere  the  blabbing3  eastern  scout, 

The  jpice 4  Morn  on  the  Indian  steep, 

From  her  cabined  loophole  peep,  140 

And  to  the  tell-tale  Sun  descry 5 

Our  concealed  solemnity. 

Come,  knit  hands,  and  beat  the  ground 

In  a  light  fantastic  round. 

The  Measure 

Break  off,  break  off,  I  feel  the  different  pace  145 

Of  some  chaste  footing  near  about  this  ground. 
Run  to  your  shrouds  within  these  brakes  and  trees; 

1  Dark.        2  Spits.       8  Revealing.       4  Accurate,  modest, 
6  Make  plain. 


Comus  91 

Our  number  may  affright.     Some  virgin  sure — 

For  so  I  can  distinguish  by  mine  art  — 

Benighted  in  these  woods  !     Now  to  my  charms,  150 

And  to  my  wily  trains ; 1  I  shall  ere  long 

Be  well  stocked  with  as  fair  jJUerd  as  grazed 

About  my  mother  Circe.     Thus  I  hurl 

My  dazzling  spells  into  the  spongy  air, 

Of  power  to  cheat  the  eye  with  blear  illusion,  155 

And  give  it  false  presentments,  lest  the  place 

And  my  quaint 2  habits  breed  astonishment, 

And  put  the  damsel  to  suspicious  flight ; 

Which  must  not  be,  for  that's  against  my  course. 

I,  under  fair  pretence  of  friendly  ends,  160 

And  well-placed  words  of  glozing 3  courtesy 

Baited  with  reasons  not  unplausible, 

Wind  me  into  the  easy-hearted  man, 

And  hug  him  into  snares.     When  once  her  eye 

Hath  met  the  virtue 4  of  this  magic  dust,  165 

I  shall  appear  some  harmless  villager 

Whom  thrift  keeps  up  about  his  country  gear.5 

But  here  she  comes ;  I  fairly 6  step  aside, 

And  hearken,  if  I  may  her  business  hear. 

The  LADY  enters 

Lady.   This  way  the  noise  was,  if  mine  ear  be  true,  170 
My  best  guide  now.     Methought  it  was  the  sound 

1  Enticements.         2  Unusual.         8  Deceptive.         4  Power. 
6  Work.  °  Promptly. 


92  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Of  riot  and  ill-managed  merriment, 

Such  as  the  jocund l  flute  or  gamesome  pipe 

Stirs  up  among  the  loose  unlettered  hi^Js,2 

When,  for  their  teeming  flocks  and  granges  full,  175 

In  wanton  dance  they  praise  the  bounteous  Pan, 

And  thank  the  gods  amiss.     I  should  be  loth 

To  meet  the  rudeness  and  swilled  insolence 

Of  such  late  wassailers3  yet,  oh  !  where  else 

Shall  I  inform  mf  unacquainted  feet  180 

In  the  blind  mazes  of  this  tangled  wood  ? 

My  brothers,  when  they  saw  me  wearied  out 

With  this  long  way,  resolving  here  to  lodge 

Under  the  spreading  favour 4  of  these  pines, 

Stepped,  as  they  said,  to  the  next  thicket  side  185 

To  bring  me  berries,  or  such  cooling  fruit 

As  the  kind  hospitable  woods  provide. 

They  left  me  then  when  the  grey-hooded  Even, 

Like  a  sad  votarist5  in  palmer's  weed, 

Rose  from  the  hindmost  wheels  of  Phoebus'  wain.          190 

But  where  they  are,  and  why  they  came  riot  back, 

Is  now  the  labour  of  my  thoughts.     Tis  likeliest 

They  had  engaged  their  wandering  steps  too  far ; 

And  envious  darkness,  ere  they  could  return, 

Had  stole  them  from  me.     Else,  O  thievish  Night,       195 

Why  shouldst  thou,  but  for  some  felonious 6  end, 

In  thy  dark  lantern  thus  close  up  the  stars 

That  Nature  hung  in  heaven,  and  filled  their  lamps 

1  Joyous.        2  Country  folk.         8  Revellers.        *  Shade. 
6  Devotee.  6  Wicked. 


Comus  93 

everlasting  oil  to  give  due  light 
To  the  misled  and  lonely  traveller?  200 

This  is  the  place,  as  well  as  I  may  guess, 
Whence  even  now  the  tumult  of  loud  mirth 
Was  rife,1  and  perfect  in  my  listening  ear ; 
Yet  nought  but  single 2  darkness  do  I  find. 
What  might  this  be?^r  A  thousand  fantasies  205 

Begin  to  throng  into  my  memory, 
Of  calling  shapes,  and  beckoning  shadows  dire, 

airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names  (< 
On  sands  and  shores  and  desert  wildernesses. 
These  thoughts  may  startle  well,  but  not  astound  210 

The  virtuous  mind,  that  ever  walks  attended 
By  a  strong 3  siding  champion,  Conscience.  — 
O,  welcome,  pure-eyed  Faith,  white-handed  Hope, 
Thou  hovering  angel  girt  with  golden  wings, 
And  thou  unblemished  form  of  Chastity  !  215 

I  see  ye  visibly,  and  now  believe 
That  He,  the  Supreme  Good,  to  whom  all  things  ill 
Are  but  as  slavish  officers  of  vengeance, 
Would  send  a  glistering  guardian,  if  need  were, 
To  keep  my  life  and  honour  unassailed.  —  220 

Was  I  deceived,  or  did  a  sable 4  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night? 
I  did  not  err ;  there  does  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night, 
And  casts  a  gleam  over  this  tufted  grove.  225 

I  cannot  hallo  to  my  brothers,  but 

!Full.  2  Complete.  8  Helpful.  *  Dark. 


94  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Such  noise  as  I  can  make  to  be  heard  farthest 
I'll  venture ;  for  my  new-enlivened  spirits 
Prompt  me,  and  they  perhaps  are  not  far  off. 

Song. 

Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  liv'st  unseen  230 

Within  thy  airy  shell 
By  slow  Meander's  marge  nt^  green, 
And  in  the  violet- embroidered  vale 
Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 

Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well ;  235 

Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 
That  likest  thy  Narcissus  are  ? 

O,  if  thou  have 

Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where,  240 

Sweet  Queen  of  Parley?  Daughter  of  the  Sphere  f 
So  may'st  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  Heaven's  harmonies. 

Enter  COMUS 

Comus.   Can  any  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mould 
Breathe  such  divine  enchanting  ravishment?  245 

Sure  something  holy  lodges  in  that  breast, 
And  with  these  raptures  moves  the  vocal  air 
To  testify  his  hidden  residence. 
How  sweetly  did  they  float  upon  the  wings 
Of  silence,  through  the  empty-vaulted  night,  250 

1  Bank.  2  Speech. 


Comus  95 

At  every  fall  smoothing  the  raven  down 

Of  darkness  till  it  smiled  !     I  have  oft  heard 

My  mother  Circe  with  the  Sirens  three, 

Amidst  the  flowery-kirtled  Naj^es, 

Culling l  their  potent  herbs  and  baleful  drugs,  255 

Who,  as  they  sung,  would  take  the  prisoned  soul 

And  lap  it  in  Eljjsjum  ;  Scylla  wept, 

And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention, 

And  fell  Cha^bdis  murmured  soft  applause. 

Yet  they  in  pleasing  slumber  lulled  the  sense,  260 

And  in  sweet  madness  robbed  it  of  itself; 

But  such  a  sacred  and  home-felt  delight, 

Such  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss, 

I  never  heard  till  now.     I'll  speak  to  her, 

And  she  shall  be  my  queen.  —  Hail,  foreign  wonder  !   265 

Whom  certain  these  rough  shades  did  never  breed, 

Unless  the  goddess  that  in  rural  shrine 

DwelPst  here  with  Pan  or  Sylvan,  by  blest  song 

Forbidding  every  bleak  unkindly  fog 

To  touch  the  prosperous  growth  of  this  tall  wood.         270 

Lady.   Nay,  gentle  shepherd,  ill  is  lost  that  praise 
That  is  addressed  to  unattending  ears. 
Not  any  boast  of  skill,  but  extreme  shift 2 
How  to  regain  my  severed  company, 
Compelled  me  to  awake  the  courteous  Echo  275 

To  give  me  answer  from  her  mossy  couch. 

Comus.   What  chance,  good  lady,  hath  bereft  you  thus? 

Lady.   Dim  darkness  and  this  leavy  labyrinth.3 
1  Picking.  2  Effort          8  Maze,  a  puzzle  of  paths. 


96  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Comus.   Could  that  divide   you   from   near-ushering1 
guides  ? 

Lady.   They  left  me  weary  on  a  grassy  turf.  280 

Comus.   By  falsehood,  or  discourtesy,  or  why? 

Lady.   To  seek  i'  the  valley  some  cool  friendly  spring. 

Comus.   And  left  your  fair  side  all  unguarded,  Lady? 

Lady.   They   were   but   twain,   and    purposed    quick 
return. 

Comus.   Perhaps  forestalling  night  prevented  them.  285 

Lady.   How  easy  my  misfortune  is  to  hit ! 

Comus.    Imports2    their    loss;    beside3    the    present 
need? 

Lady.   No  less  than  if  I  should  my  brothers  lose. 

Comus.    Were    they    of    manly    prime,    or    youthful 
bloom  ? 

Lady.   As  smooth  as  Hebe's  their  unrazored  lips.      290 

Comus.   Two  such  I  saw,  what  time  the  laboured  ox 
In  his  loose  traces  from  the  furrow  came, 
And  the  swinked 4  hedger  at  his  supper  sat. 
I  saw  them  under  a  green  mantling  vine, 
That  crawls  along  the  side  of  yon  small  hill,  295 

Plucking  ripe  clusters  from  the  tender  shoots ; 
Their  port5  was  more  than  human,  as  they  stood. 
I  took  it  for  a  faery  vision 
Of  some  gay  creatures  of  the  element,6 
That  in  the  colours  of  the  rainbow  live,  300 

And  play  i*  the  plighted 7  clouds.     I  was  awe-strook,8 

1  Going  close  before.          2  Means.  8  More  than.  4  Tired. 

6  Carriage.        6  Heavens.        7  Woven,  plaited,  folded.       8  Struck. 


Comus  97 

And  as  I  passed  I  worshipped.     If  those  you  seek, 
It  were  a  journey  like  the  path  to  Heaven 
To  help  you  find  them. 

Lady.  Gentle  villager, 

What  readiest  way  would  bring  me  to  that  place  ?          305 

Comus.   Due  west  it  rises  from  this  shrubby  point. 

Lady.   To  find  that  out,  good  shepherd,  I  suppose, 
In  such  a  scant  allowance  of  starlight, 
Would  overtask  the  best  land-pilot's  art, 
Without  the  sure  guess  of  well-practised  feet.  310 

Comus.   I  know  each  lane,  and  every  alley  green, 
Dmgl£2^oj^bushy  dell,  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky  bourn  from  side  to  side, 
My  daily  walks  and  ancient  neighbourhood ; 
And  if  your  stray  attendance  be  yet  lodged  315 

Or  shroud l  within  these  limits,  I  shall  know 
Ere  morrow  wake,  or  the  low-roosted 2  lark 
From  her  thatched  pallet  rouse.     If  otherwise, 
I  can  conduct  you,  Lady,  to  a  low 

But  loyal  cottage,  where  you  may  be  safe  320 

Till  further  quest. 

Lady.  Shepherd,  I  take  thy  word, 

And  trust  thy  honest-offered  courtesy, 
Which  oft  is  sooner  found  in  lowly  sheds, 
With  smoky  rafters,  than  in  tapestry  halls 
And  courts  of  princes,  where  it  first  was  named,  325 

And  yet  is  most  pretended.     In  a  place 
Less  warranted 3  than  this,  or  less  secure, 

1  Sheltered.         2  Low-resting  or  dwelling.         8  Answered  for. 
MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  7 


98  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

I  cannot  be,  that  I  should  fear  to  change  it. 

Eye  l  me,  blest  Providence,  and  square  2  my  trial 

To  my  proportioned  strength  !     Shepherd,  lead  on.      330 


Enter  the  two  Brothers 

Elder  Brother.   Unmuffle,  ye  faint  stars;    and   thou, 

fair  moon, 

That  wont'st  to  love  the  traveller's  benison,3 
Stoop  thy  pale  visage  through  an  amber  cloud, 
And  disinherit  4  Chaos,  that  reigns  here 
In  double  night  of  darkness  and  of  shades  ;  335 

Or  if  your  influence  be  quite  dammed  up 
With  black  usurping  mists,  some  gentle  taper, 
Though  a  rush  candle  from  the  wicker  hole 
Of  some  clay  habitation,  visit  us 

With  thy  long  levelled  rule  5  of  streaming  light,  340 

And  thou  shalt  be  our  Star  .of  Arcady 
Or  Tyrian  Cynosure  ! 

Second  Brother.         Or  if  our  eyes 
Be  barred  that  happiness,  might  we  but  hear 
The  folded  flocks  penned  in  their  wattled  cotes,6 
Or  sound  of  pastoral  reed  with  oaten  stops,  345 

Or  whistle  from  the  lodge,  or  village  cock 
Count  the  night  watches  to  his  feathery  dames, 
'Twould  be  some  solace  yet,  some  little  cheering 
In  this  close  dungeon  of  innumerous  7  boughs. 

1  Watch.         2  Suit.         3  Blessing.         *  Deprive  of  rights. 
6  Beam.         6  Twig  cots.        7  Innumerable. 


Comus  99 

But,  oh,  that  hapless  virgin,  our  lost  sister  !  350 

Where  may  she  wander  now,  whither  betake  her 

From  the  chill  dew,  amongst  rude  burs  and  thistles  ? 

Perhaps  some  cold  bank  is  her  bolster  now, 

Or  'gainst  the  rugged  bark  of  some  broad  elm 

Leans  her  unpillowed  head,  fraught  with  sad  fears.        355 

What  if  in  wild  amazement  and  affright, 

Or,  while  we  speak,  within  the  direful  grasp 

Of  Savage  hunger,  or  of  savage  heat ! 

Elder  Brother.   Peace,  brother  :  be  not  over-exquisite 1 
"To  cast  the  fashion  of  uncertain  evils ;  360 

For  grant  they  be  so,  while  they  rest  unknown, 
What  need  a  man  forestall  his  date  of  grief, 
And  run  to  meet  what  he  would  most  avoid  ? 
Or  if  they  be  but  false  alarms  of  fear, 
How  bitter  is  such  self-delusion  !  365 

I  do  not  think  my  sister  so  to  seek,2 
Or  so  unprincipled  in  virtue's  book, 
And  the  sweet  peace  that  goodness  bosoms  ever, 
As  that  the  single  want  of  light  and  noise  — 
Not  being  in  danger,  as  I  trust  she  is  not —  370 

Could  stir  the  constant  mood  of  her  calm  thoughts, 
And  put  them  into  misbecoming  plight. 
Virtue  could  see  to  do  what  Virtue  would 
By  her  own  radiant  light,  though  sun  and  moon 
Were  in  the  flat  sea  sunk.     And  Wisdom's  self  375 

Oft  seeks  to  sweet  retired  solitude, 
Where,  with  her  best  nurse  Contemplation, 
1  Over-careful.  2  Incapable. 


ioo  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

She  plumes  her  feathers,  and  lets  grow  her  wings, 

That,  in  the  various  bustle  of  resort, 

Were  all  to-ruffled,  and  sometimes  impaired.  380 

He  that  has  light  within  his  own  clear  breast 

May  sit  i'  the  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day  : 

But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul  and  foul  thoughts 

Benighted  walks  under  the  mid- day  sun  ; 

Himself  is  his  own  dungeon. 

Second  Brother.  Tis  most  true  '  385 

That  musing  Meditation  most  affects 
The  pensive  secrecy  of  desert  cejl, 
Far  from  the  cheerful  haunt  of  men  and  herds, 
\  And  sits  as  safe  as  in  a  senate-house ; 
For  who  would  rob  a  hermit  of  his  weeds,  390 

His  few  books,  or  his  beads,  or  maple  dish, 
Or  do  his  grey  hairs  any  violence  ? 
But  Beauty,  like  the  fair  Hesperian  tree 
Laden  with  blooming  gold,  had  need  the  guard 
Of  dragon- watch  with  unenchanted  eye,  395 

To  save  her  blossoms,  and  defend  her  fruit 
From  the  rash  hand  of  bold  Incontinence. 
You  may  as  well  spread  out  the  unsunned  heaps 
Of  miser's  treasure  by  an  outlaw's  den, 
And  tell  me  it  is  safe,  as  bid  me  hope  400 

Danger  will  wink l  on  Opportunity, 
And  let  a  single  helpless  maiden  pass 
Uninjured  in  this  wild  surrounding  waste. 
Of  night  or  loneliness  it  recks  me  not ; 
1  Shut  its  eyes  to. 


Comus  101 

I  fear  the  dread  events  that  dog 1  them  both,  405 

Lest  some  ill-greeting  touch  attempt  the  person 
Of  our  unowned 2  sister. 

Elder  Brother.  I  do  not,  brother, 

Infer  as  if  I  thought  my  sister's  state 
Secure  without  all  doubt  or  controversy ; 
Yet, .where  an  equal  poise 3  of  hope  and  fear  410 

^Does  arbitrate  the  event,  my  nature  is 
That  I  incline  to  hope  rather  -than  fear,     ' 
And  gladly  banish  squint4  suspicion. 
My  sister  is  not  so  defenceless  left 

As  you  imagine;  she  has  a  hidden  strength  415 

Which  you  remember  not. 

Second  Brother.*  What  hidden  strength, 

Unless  the  strength  of  Heaven,  if  you  mean  that  ? 

Elder  Brother.  I  mean  that  too,  but  yet  a  hidden  strength 
Which,  if  Heaven  gave  it,  may  be  termed  her  own. 
Tis  chastity,  my  brother,  chastity  :  420 

She  that  has  that  is  clad  in  complete  steel> 
And,  like  a  quivered  nymph  with  arrows  keen, 
May  trace  5  huge  forests  and  unharboured 6  heaths, 
Infamous7  hills,  and  sandy  perilous  wilds, 
Where,  through  the  sacred  rays  of  chastity,  425 

No  savage  fierce,  bandite,8  or  mountaineer 
Will  dare  to  soil  her  virgin  purity. 
Yea,  there  where  very  desolation  dwells, 
By  grots  and  caverns  shagged 9  with  horrid  shades, 

1  Follow.      2  Deserted.       3  Chance.       4  Looking  sidewise,  sinister. 
6  Traverse.   6  Inhospitable.    7  Strange.    8  Robber.    9  Made  scrubby. 


IO2  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

She  may  pass  on  with  unblenched1  majesty,  430 

Be  it  not  done  in  pride  or  in  presumption. 

Some  say  no  evil  thing  that  walks  by  night, 

In  fog  or  fire,  by  lake  or  moorish  fen, 

Blue  meagre2  hag,  or  stubborn  unlaid  ghost 

That  breaks  his  magic  chains  at  curfew  time,  435 

No  goblin  or  swart 3  faery  of  the  mine, 

Hath  hurtful  power  o'er  true  virginity. 

Do  ye  believe  me  yet,  or  shall  I  call 

Antiquity  from  the  old  schools  of  Greece 

To  testify  the  arms  of  chastity  ?  440 

Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow, 

Fair  silver-shafted  queen  for  ever  chaste, 

Wherewith  she  tamed  the  brinded 4  lioness 

And  spotted  mountain-pard,  but  set  at  nought 

The  frivolous 5  bolt  of  Cupid ;  gods  and  men  445 

Feared  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  o'  the  woods. 

What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield 

That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquered  virgin, 

Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congealed  stone, 

But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity,  450 

And  noble  grace  that  dashed  brute  violence 

With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe? 

So  dear  to  Heaven  is  saintly  chastity 

That,  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 

A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey 6  her,  455 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt, 

1  Unharmed.  2  Thin.  8  Dark. 

*  Streaked,  brindled.  5  Light.  6  Serve. 


Comus  103 

And  in  clear  dream  and  solemn  vision 

Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear ; 

Till  oft  converse  with  heavenly  habitants 

Begin  to  cast  a  beam l  on  the  outward  shape,  460 

The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind, 

And  turns  it  by  degrees  to  the  soul's  essence, 

Till  all  be  made  immortal.  /  But  when  lust, 

By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk, 

But  most  by  lewd  and  lavish  act  of  sin,  465 

Lets  in  defilement  to  the  inward  parts, 

The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion, 

Imbodies  and  imbrutes,  till  she  quite  lose 

The  divine  property  of  her  first  being. 

Such  are  those  thick  and  gloomy  shadows  damp  470 

Oft  seen  in  charnal2  vaults  and  sepulchres, 

Lingering  and  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave, 

As  loth  to  leave  the  body  that  it  loved, 

And  linked  itself  by  carnal  sensualty 

To  a  degenerate  and  degraded  state.  475 

Second  Brother.  How  charming  is  divine  Philosophy  ! 
Not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical  as  is  Apollo's  lute, 
And  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectared  sweets, 
Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns. 

Elder  Brother.  List !  list !  I  hear          480 

Some  far-off  hallo  break  the  silent  air. 

Second  Brother.    Methought  so  too  ;  what  should  it  be  ? 

Elder  Brother.  For  certain, 

1  Light.  2  Containing  corpses. 


iO4  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

Either  some  one,  like  us,  night-foundered l  here, 

Or  else  some  neighbour  woodman,  or,  at  worst, 

Some  roving  robber  calling  to  his  fellows.  485 

Second  Brother.  Heaven  keep  my  sister  !    Again,  again, 

and  near  ! 
Best  draw,  and  stand  upon  our  guard. 

Elder  Brother.  I'll  hallo  : 

If  he  be  friendly,  he  comes  well ;  if  not, 
Defence  is  a  good  cause,  and  Heaven  be  for  us  ! 

r    Enter  the  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  habited  like  a  Shepherd 

That  hallo  I  should  know.     What  are  you?  speak.        490 
Come  not  too  near ;  you  fall  on  iron  stakes  else. 

Spirit.   What  voice  is  that?   my  young  Lord?  speak 
again. 

Second  Brother.   O  brother,  'tis  my  father's  Shepherd, 
sure  ! 

Elder  Brother.   Thyrsis  !  whose  artful  strains  have  oft 

delayed 

The  huddling 2  brook  to  hear  his  madrigal,3  495 

And  sweetened  every  musk-rose  of  the  dale. 
How  earnest  thou  here,  good  swain?  hath  any  ram 
Slipped  from  the  fold,  or  young  kid  lost  his  dam, 
Or  straggling  wether  the  pent  flock  forsook? 
How  couldst  thou  find- this  dark  sequestered4  nook?    500 

Spirit.   O  my  loved  master's  heir,  and  his  next  joy, 
I  came  not  here  on  such  a  trivial  toy5 
As  a  strayed  ewe,  or  to  pursue  the  stealth 
1  Disabled.         2  Hurrying.         8  Song.        4  Lonely.        6  Pretext. 


Comus  105 

Of  pilfering  wolf;  not  all  the  fleecy  wealth 

That  doth  enrich  these  downs  is  worth  a  thought  505 

To  this  my  errand,  and  the  care  it  brought. 

§it  oh  !  my  virgin  Lady,  where  is  she? 
ow  chance  she  is  not  in  your  company  ? 

Elder  Brother.   To  tell  thee  sadly,  Shepherd,  without 

blame 
Or  our  neglect,  we  lost  her  as  we  came.  510 

Spirit.   Ay  me  unhappy  !  then  my  fears  are  true. 

Elder  Brother.   What   fears,  good  Thyrsis?     Prithee 
briefly  show. 

Spirit.   I'll  tell  ye.     'Tis  not  vain  or  fabulous,  — 
Though  so  esteemed  by  shallow  ignorance,  — 
What  the  sage  poets,  taught  by  the  heavenly  Muse,       515 
Storied  of  old  in  high  immprtalr  verse 
Of  dire  Chimeras  and  enchanted  isles, 
And  rifted  rocks  whose  entrance  leads  to  Hell ; 
For  such  there  be,  but  unbelief  is  blind. 

Within  the  navel *  of  this  hideous  wood,  520 

Immured 2  in  cypress  shades  a  sorcerer  dwells, 
Of  Bacchus  and  of  Circe  born,  great  Comus, 
Deep  skilled  in  all  his  mother's  witcheries ; 
And  here  to  every  thirsty  wanderer 
By  sly  enticement  gives  his  baneful3  cup,  525 

With  many  murmurs  mixed,  whose  pleasing  poison 
The  visage  quite  transforms  of  him  that  drinks, 
And  the  inglorious  likeness  of  a  beast 
Fixes  instead,  unmoulding  reason's  mintage 4 

1  Middle.         2  Shut  up.         3  Harmful.         *  Inscription. 


106  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Charactered  in  the  face.     This  have  I  learnt  530 

Tending  my  flocks  hard  by  i'  the  hilly  crofts 1 

That  brow 2  this  bottom  glade ;  whence  night  by  night 

He  and  his  monstrous  rout  are  heard  to  howl 

Like  stabled  wolves,  or  tigers  at  their  prey, 

Doing  abhorred  rites  to  Hecate  535 

In  their  obscured  haunts  of  inmost  bowers. 

Yet  have  they  many  baits  and  guileful  spells 

To  inveigle 3  and  invite  the  unwary  sense 

Of  them  that  pass  unweeting  4  by  the  way. 

This  evening  late,  by  then  the  chewing  flocks  540 

Had  ta'en  their  supper  on  the  savoury  herb 

Of  knot-grass  dew-besprent,5  and  were  in  fold, 

I  sat  me  down  to  watch  upon  a  bank 

With  ivy  canopied  and  interwove 

With  flaunting  honeysuckle,  and  began,  545 

Wrapt  in  a  pleasing  fit  of  melancholy, 

To  meditate 6  my  rural  minstrelsy, 

Till  fancy  had  her  fill.     But  ere  a  close 

The  wonted  roar  was  up  amidst  the  woods, 

And  filled  the  air  with  barbarous  dissonance ;  550 

At  which  I  ceased,  and  listened  them  a  while, 

Till  an  unusual  stop  of  sudden  silence 

Gave  respite  to  the  drowsy-flighted  steeds, 

That  draw  the  litter  of  close-curtained  Sleep. 

At  last  a  soft  and  solemn-breathing  sound  555 

Rose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distilled  perfumes, 

1  Small  fields.        2  Overhang.        8  Lure.       4  Unthinking. 
6  Besprinkled.  6  Practise. 


Comus  107 

And  stole  upon  the  air,  that  even  Silence 

Was  took  ere  she  was  ware,  and  wished  she  might 

Deny  her  nature,  and  be  never  more, 

Still  to  be  so  displaced.     I  was  all  ear,  560 

And  took  in  strains  that  might  create  a  soul 

Under  the  ribs  of  Death  ;  but  oh  !  ere  long 

Too  well  I  did  perceive  it  was  the  voice 

Of  my  most  honoured  Lady,  your  dear  sister. 

Amazed  I  stood,  harrowed  with  grief  and  fear ;  565 

And  '  O  poor  hapless  nightingale,'  thought  I, 

'  How  sweet  thou  sing'st,  how  near  the  deadly  snare  ! ' 

Then  down  the  lawns  I  ran  with  headlong  haste, 

Through  paths  and  turnings  often  trod  by  day, 

Till  guided  by  mine  ear,  I  found  the  place,  570 

Where  that  damned  wizard,  hid  in  sly  disguise  — 

For  so  by  certain  signs  I  knew  —  had  met 

Already,  ere  my  best  speed  could  prevent, 

The  aidless  innocent  lady,  his  wished  prey ; 

Who  gently  asked  if  he  had  seen  such  two,  575 

Supposing  him  some  neighbour  villager. 

Longer  I  durst  not  stay,  but  soon  I  guessed 

Ye  were  the  two  she  meant ;  with  that  I  sprung 

Into  swift  flight,  till  I  had  found  you  here ; 

But  further  I  know  not. 

Second  Brother.  O  night  and  shades,  580 

How  are  ye  joined  with  Hell  in  triple  knot, 
Against  the  unarmed  weakness  of  one  virgin, 
Alone  and  helpless  !     Is  this  the  confidence 
You  gave  me,  brother? 


io8  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

Elder  Brother.  Yes,  and  keep  it  still ; 

Lean  on  it  safely  :  not  a  period  585 

Shall  be  unsaid  for  me.     Against  the  threats 
Of  malice  or  of  sorcery,  or  that  power 
Which  erring  men  call  Chance,  this  I  hold  firm : 
Virtue  may  be  assailed,  but  never  hurt,... 
Surprised  by  unjust  force,  but  not  enthralled ;  590 

Yea,  even  that  which  Mischief  meant  most  harm 
Shall  in  the  happy  trial  prove  most  glory : 
But  evil  on  itself  shall  back  recoil, 
And  mix  no  more  with  goodness,  when  at  last, 
Gathered  like  scum,  and  settled  to  itself,  595 

It  shall  be  in  eternal  restless  change 
Self-fed  and  self-consumed.     If  this  fail, 
The  pillared  firmament  is  rottenness, 
And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble.     But  come,  let's  on  ! 
Against  the  opposing  will  and  arm  of  Heaven  600 

May  never  this  just  sword  be  lifted  up  ; 
But  for  that  damned  magician,  let  him  be  girt 
With  all  the  grisly1  legions  that  troop 
Under  the  sooty 2  flag  of  Acheron, 

Harpies  and  Hydras,  or  all  the  monstrous  forms  605 

'Twixt  Africa  and  Ind,  I'll  find  him  out, 
And  force  him  to  return  his  purchase 3  back, 
Or  drag  him  by  the  curls  to  a  foul  death, 
Cursed  as  his  life. 

Spirit.  Alas  !  good  venturous  youth, 

I  love  thy  courage  yet,  and  bold  emprise  ; 4  610 

1  Grim.        2  Black,  smoky.         8  Prey.         4  Adventure. 


Comus  109 

But  here  thy  sword  can  do  thee  little  stead.1 
Far  other  arms  and  other  weapons  must 
Be  those  that  quell  the  might  of  hellish  charms. 
He  with  his  bare  wand  can  unthread  thy  joints, 
And  crumble  all  thy  sinews. 

Elder  Brother.  Why,  prithee,  Shepherd,  615 

How  durst  thou  then  thyself  approach  so  near 
As  /to  make  this  relation? 

Spirit.  Care  and  utmost  shifts 

How  to  secure  the  Lady  from  surprisal 
Brought  to  my  mind  a  certain  shepherd  lad, 
Of  small  regard  to  see  to,2  yet  well  skilled  620 

In  every  virtuous  plant  and  healing  herb 
That  spreads  her  verdant  leaf  to  the  morning  ray. 
He  loved  me  well,  and  oft  would  beg  me  sing ; 
Which  when  I  did,  he  on  the  tender  grass 
Would  sit  and  hearken  even  to  ecstasy,  625 

And  in  requital 3  ope  his  leathern  scrip, 
And  show  me  simples 4  of  a  thousand  names, 
Telling  their  strange  and  vigorous  faculties. 
Amongst  the  rest  a  small  unsightly  root, 
But  of  divine  effect,  he  culled  me  out.  630 

The  leaf  was  darkish,  and  had  prickles  on  it, 
But  in  another  country,  as  he  said, 
Bore  a  bright  golden  flower,  but  not  in  this  soil : 
Unknown,  and  like  esteemed,  and  the  dull  swain 
Treads  on  it  daily  with  his  clouted  shoon ; 6  635 

And  yet  more  med'cinal  is  it  than  that  Moly 

1  Good.    2  Look  upon.    8  Return.    *  Herbs.    5  Patched  shoes. 


no  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

That  Hermes  once  to  wise  Ulysses  gave. 

He  called  it  Haemony,  and  gave  it  me, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  as  of  sovran  use 

'Gainst  all  enchantments,  mildew  blast,  or  damp,  640 

Or  ghastly  Furies'  apparition. 

I  pursed1  it  up,  but  little  reckoning  made, 

Till  now  that  this  extremity  compelled ; 

But  now  I  find  it  true,  for  by  this  means 

I  knew  the  foul  enchanter,  though  disguised,  645 

Entered  the  very  lime-twigs  2  of  his  spells, 

And  yet  came  off.     If  you  have  this  about  you  — 

As  I  will  give  you  when  we  go  —  you  may , 

Boldly  assault  the  necromancer's3  hall ; 

Where  if  he  be,  with  dauntless  hardihood  650 

And  brandished  blade  rush  on  him :  break  his  glass, 

And  shed  the  luscious  liquor  on  the  ground : 

But  seize  his  wand.     Though  he  and  his  curst  crew 

Fierce  sign  of  battle  make,  and  menace  high, 

Or,  like  the  sons  of  Vulcan,  vomit  smoke,  655 

Yet  will  they  soon  retire,  if  he  but  shrink.4 

Elder  Brother.   Thyrsis,  lead  on  apace  ;  I'll  follow  thee, 
And  some  good  angel  bear  a  shield  before  us  ! 

The  Scene  changes  to  a  stately  palace •,  set  out  with  all 
manner  of  deliciousness  ;  soft  music,  tables  spread  with 
all  dainties.  COMUS  appears  with  his  rabble,  and  the 
LADY  set  in  an  enchanted  chair ;  to  whom  he  offers  his 
glass ,  which  she  puts  by,  and  goes  about  to  rise. 

1  Treasured.     2  Twigs  smeared  with  birdlime  for  catching  birds. 
8  Magician's.  *  Retreat. 


Comus  in 

Comus.    Nay,  Lady,  sit ;  if  I  but  wave  this  wand, 
Your  nerves  are  all  chained  up  in  alabaster,  660 

And  you  a  statue,  or  as  Daphne  was, 
Root-bound,  that  fled  Apollo. 

Lady.  Fool,  do  not  boast ; 

Thou  canst  not  touch  the  freedom  of  my  mind 
With  all  thy  charms,  although  this  corporal  rind 1 
Thou  hast  immanacled  2  while  Heaven  sees  good.          665 

Comus.   Why  are  you  vexed,  Lady  ?  why  do  you  frown? 
Here  dwell  no  frowns  nor  anger ;  from  these  gates 
Sorrow  flies  far.    See,  here  be  all  the  pleasures 
That  fancy  can  beget  on  youthful  thoughts, 
When  the  fresh  blood  grows  lively  and  returns  670 

Brisk  as  the  April  buds  in  primrose  season. 
And  first  behold  this  cordial  julep 3  here, 
That  flames  and  dances  in  his  crystal  bounds, 
With  spirits  of , balm  and  fragrant  syrups  mixed. 
Not  that  Nepenthes  which  the  wife  of  Thone  675 

In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena 
Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 
To  life  so  friendly,  or  so  cool  to  thirst. 
Why  should  you  be  so  cruel  to  yourself, 
And  to  those  dainty  limbs  which  Nature  lent  680 

For  gentle  usage  and  soft  delicacy  ? 
But  you  invert  the  covenants  of  her  trust, 
And  harshly  deal,  like  an  ill  borrower, 
With  that  which  you  received  on  other  terms ; 
Scorning  the  unexempt 4  condition  685 

1  Bodily  form.     2  Enchained.     8  Sweet  drink.     4  Universal. 


112  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

By  which  all  mortal  frailty  must  subsist, 
Refreshment  after  toil,  ease  after  pain, 
That  have  been  tired  all  day  without  repast, 
And  timely  rest  have  wanted.     But,  fair  virgin, 
This  will  restore  all  soon. 

Lady.  'Twill  not,  false  traitor  !     690 

Twill  not  restore  the  truth  and  honesty 
That  thou  hast  banished  from  thy  tongue  with  lies. 
Was  this  the  cottage  and  the  safe  abode 
Thou  told'st  me  of  ?     What  grim  aspects  are  these, 
These  oughly  ^headed  monsters  ?     Mercy  guard  me  !  695 
Hence  with  thy  brewed  enchantments,  foul  deceiver  ! 
Hast  thou  betrayed  my  credulous  innocence 
With  visored 2  falsehood  and  base  forgery  ? 
And  wouldst  thou  seek  again  to  trap  me  here 
With  liquorish  baits,  fit  to  ensnare  a  brute  ?  700 

Were  it  a  draught  for  Juno  when  she  banquets, 
I  would  not  taste  thy  treasonous  offer.     None 
But  such  as  are  good  men  can  give  good  things ; 
And  that  which  is  not  good  is  not  delicious 
To  a  well-governed  and  wise  appetite.  705 

Comus.   O  foolishness  of  men  !  that  lend  their  ears 
To  those  budge 3  doctors  of  the  Stoic  fur, 
And  fetch  their  precepts  from  the  Cynic  tub, 
Praising  the  lean  and  sallow  Abstinence  ! 
Wherefore  did  Nature  pour  her  bounties  forth  710 

With  such  a  full  and  unwithdrawing  hand, 
Covering  the  earth  with  odours,  fruits,  and  flocks, 

1  Ugly.          2  Armed,  masked.          8  Pampered,  solemn. 


Comus  113 

Thronging  the  seas  with  spawn  innumerable, 
But  all  to  please  and  sate l  the  curious  taste  ? 
And  set  to  work  millions  of  spinning  worms,  715 

That  in  their  green  shops  weave  the  smooth-haired  silk 
To  deck  her  sons ;  and  that  no  corner  might 
Be  vacant  of  her  plenty,  in  her  own  loins 
She  hutched 2  the  all- worshipped  ore  and  precious  gems 
To  store  her  children  with.     If  all  the  world  720 

Should  in  a  pet  of  temperance  feed  on  pulse, 
Drink  the  clear  stream,  and  nothing  wear  but  frieze,3 
The  All-giver  would  be  unthanked,  would  be  unpraised, 
Not  half  his  riches  known,  and  yet  despised ; 
And  we  should  serve  him  as  a  grudging  master,  725 

As  a  penurious  niggard  of  his  wealth, 
And  live  like  Nature's  bastards,  not  her  sons, 
Who  would  be  quite  surcharged  with  her  own  weight, 
And  strangled  with  her  waste  fertility : 
The   earth  cumbered,  and   the  winged  air  darked  with 
plumes,  730 

The  herds  would  over-multitude  their  lords, 
The  sea  o'erfraught  would  swell,  and  the  unsought  dia- 
monds 

Would  so  emblaze  the  forehead  of  the  deep, 
And  so  bestud  with  stars,  that  they  below 
Would  grow  inured 4  to  light,  and  come  at  last  735 

To  gaze  upon  the  sun  with  shameless  brows. 
List,  Lady ;  be  not  coy,  and  be  not  cozened 5 
With  that  same  vaunted  name,  Virginity. 

1  Satisfy.    2  Hoarded.    8  Coarse  cloth.     4  Used.     5  Cheated. 
-  MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  8 


H4  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Beauty  is  Nature's  coin  ;  must  not  be  hoarded, 

But  must  be  current ;  and  the  good  thereof  74<x. 

Consists  in  mutual  and  partaken  bliss, 

Unsavoury  in  the  enjoyment  of  itself. 

If  you  let  slip  time,  like  a  neglected  rose 

It  withers  on  the  stalk  with  languished  head. 

Beauty  is  Nature's  brag,  and  must  be  shown  745 

In  courts,  at  feasts,  and  high  solemnities, 

Where  most  may  wonder  at  the  workmanship. 

It  is  for  homely  features  to  keep  home ; 

They  had  their  name  thence  :  coarse  complexions 

And  cheeks  of  sorry  grain  will  serve  to  ply  750 

The  sampler  and  to  tease  the  huswife's  wool. 

What  need  a  vermeil  ^tinctured  lip  for  that, 

Love-darting  eyes,  or  tresses  like  the  morn  ? 

There  was  another  meaning  in  these  gifts  : 

Think  what,  and  be  advised ;  you  are  but  young  yet.    755 

Lady.   I  had  not  thought  to  have  unlocked  my  lips 
In  this  unhallowed  air,  but  that  this  juggler 
Would  think  to  charm  my  judgment,  as  mine  eyes, 
Obtruding  false  rules  pranked 2  in  reason's  garb. 
I  hate  when  Vice  can  bolt 3  her  arguments,  760 

And  Virtue  has  no  tongue  to  check  her  pride. 
Impostor  !  do  not  charge  most  innocent  Nature, 
As  if  she  would  her  children  should  be  riotous 
With  her  abundance.     She,  good  cateress,4 
Means  her  provision  only  to  the  good,  765 

That  live  according  to  her  sober  laws 

1  Crimson.        2  Dressed  up.         3  Make  fast.        4  Provider. 


Comus  (    115 

And  holy  dictate  of  spare  Temperance. 
If  every  just  man  that  now  pines  with  want 
Had  but  a  moderate  and  beseeming  share 
Of  that  which  lewdly-pampered  Luxury  770 

Now  heaps  upon  some  few  with  vast  excess, 
Nature's  full  blessings  would  be  well  dispensed 
In  unsuperfluous  even  proportion, 
And  she  no  wit *  encumbered  with  her  store  :       * 
And  then  the  Giver  would  be  better  thanked,  775 

His  praise  due  paid ;  for  swinish  Gluttony  ' 
Ne'er  looks  to  Heaven  amidst  his  gorgeous  feast, 
But  with  besotted  base  ingratitude 
Crams,  and  blasphemes  his  Feeder.     Shall  I  go  on? 
Or  have  I  said  enow?     To  him  that  dares  780 

Arm  his  profane  tongue  with  contemptuous  words 
Against  the  sun-clad  power  of  chastity, 
Fain  would  I  something  say  —  yet  to  what  end  ? 
Thou  hast  nor  ear,  nor  soul,  to  apprehend 
The  sublime  notion  and  high  mystery  785 

That  must  be  uttered  to  unfold  the  sage 
And  serious  doctrine  of  Virginity ; 
And  thou  art  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  not  know 
More  happiness  than  this  thy  present  lot. 
Enjoy  your  dear  wit  and  gay  rhetoric,  790 

That  hath  so  well  been  taught  her  dazzling  fence ; 
Thou  art  not  fit  to  hear  thyself  convinced. 
Yet,  should  I  try,  the  uncontrolled  worth 
Of  this  pure  cause  would  kindle  my  rapt  spirits 
i  Whit. 


n6  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

To  such  a  flame  of  sacred  vehemence  795 

That  dumb  things  would  be  moved  to  sympathize, 
And  the  brute  Earth  would  lend  her  nerves,  and  shake, 
Till  all  thy  magic  structures  reared  so  high 
Were  shattered  into  heaps  o'er  thy  false  head. 

Comus.   She  fables  not.     I  feel  that  I  do  fear  800 

Her  words  set  off  by  some  superior  power ; 
And,  though  not  mortal,  yet  a  cold  shuddering  dew 
Dips  me  all  o'er,  as  when  the  wrath  of  Jove 
Speaks  thunder  and  the  chains  of  Erebus 
To  some  of  Saturn's  crew.     I  must  dissemble,  805 

And  try  her  yet  more  strongly.  —  Come,  no  more  ! 
This  is  mere  moral  babble,  and  direct 
Against  the  canon l  laws  of  our  foundation. 
I  must  not  suffer  this :  yet  'tis  but  the  lees 
And  settlings  of  a  melancholy  blood.  810 

But  this  will  cure  all  straight ;  one  sip  of  this 
Will  bathe  the  drooping  spirits  in  delight 
Beyond  the  bliss  of  dreams.     Be  wise,  and  taste.  — 

The  BROTHERS  rush  in  with  swords  drawn,  wrest  his  glass 
out  of  his  hand,  and  break  it  against  the  ground;  his 
rout  make  sign  of  resistance,  but  are  all  driven  in. 
The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT  comes  in. 

Spirit  What !  have  you  let  the  false  enchanter  scape  ? 
O,  ye  mistook  !  ye  should  have  snatched  his  wand,  815 
And  bound  him  fast.  Without  his  rod  reversed 

1  Fundamental. 


Comus  117 

And  backward  mutters  of  dissevering  power, 

We  cannot  free  the  Lady  that  sits  here 

In  stony  fetters  fixed  and  motionless. 

Yet  stay,  be  not  disturbed  :  now  I  bethink  me,  820 

Some  other  means  I  have  which  may  be  used, 

Which  once  of  Melibceus  old  I  learnt, 

The  soothest l  shepherd  that  e'er  piped  on  plains. 

There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb2  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream  :  825 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure ; 
Whilome 3  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  stepdame  Guendolen,  830 

Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood 
That  stayed  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course. 
The  water-nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  played 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall;  835 

Who,  piteous  of  her  woes,  reared  her  lank  head, 
And  gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  imbathe 
In  nectared  lavers 4  strewed  with  asphodil, 
And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense 
Dropped  in  ambrosial  oils,  till  she  revived,  840 

And  underwent  a  quick  immortal  change, 
Made  Goddess  of  the  river.     Still  she  retains 
Her  maiden  gentleness,  and  oft  at  eve 
Visits  the  herds  along  the  twilight  meadows, 

1  Wisest  2  Watery  rein.  8  Once.          4  Basins. 


n8  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Helping  all  urchin  blasts 1  and  ill-luck  signs  845 

That  the  shrewd  meddling  elf  delights  to  make, 

Which  she  with  precious  vialed 2  liquors  heals ; 

For  which  the  shepherds  at  their  festivals 

Carol  her  goodness  loud  in  rustic  lays, 

And  throw  sweet  garland  wreaths  into  her  stream          850 

Of  pansies,  pinks,  and  gaudy  daffodils.3 

And,  as  the  old  swain  said,  she  can  unlock 

The  clasping  charm  and  thaw  the  numbing  spell, 

If  she  be  right  invoked  in  warbled  song  ; 

For  maidenhood  she  loves,  and  will  be  swift  855 

To  aid  a  virgin,  such  as  was  herself, 

In  hard-besetting  need.     This  will  I  try, 

And  add  the  power  of  some  adjuring  verse. 

Song. 
Sabrinafair, 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting  860 

Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent*  wave,     • 

In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber- dropping  hair  ; 

Listen  for  dear  honour's  sake, 

Goddess  of  the  silver  lake,  865 

Listen  and  save  / 

Listen,  and  appear  to  us, 

In  name  of  great  Oceanus  ; 

By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune's  mace, 

1  Goblin  blights.     2  Kept  or  stored  up  in  a  vial.     8  Asphodels. 
4  Transparent. 


Comus  119 

And  Tethys'  grave  majestic  pace  ;  870 

By  hoary  Nereus'  wrinkled  look, 
And  the  Carpathian  wizard's  hook ; 
By  scaly  Triton's  winding  shell, 
And  old  sooThsaying  Glaucus'  spell ; 
By  Leucothea's  lovely  hands,  875 

And  her  son  that  rules  the  strands ; 
By  Thetis'  tinsel-slippered  feet, 
And  the  songs  of  Sijens  sweet ; 
By  dead  Parthenope's  dear  tomb, 
And  fair  Ligea's  golden  comb,  880 

Wherewith*sne  sits  on  diamond  rocks 
Sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks ; 
By  all  the  nymphs  that  nightly  dance 
Upon  thy  streams  with  wily  glance ; 
Rise,  rise,  and  heave  thy  rosy  head  885 

From  thy  coral-paven  bed, 
And  bridle  in  thy  headlong  wave, 
Till  thou  our  summons  answered  have. 
Listen  and  save  ! 

SABRINA  rises,  attended  by  Water-nymphs,  and  sings 

By  the  rushy-fringed  bank,  890 

Where  grow  the  willow  and  the  osier  dank, 

My  sliding  chariot  stays, 
Thick  set  with  agate,  and  the  azurn  sheen * 
Of '  turkis  blue,  and  emerald  green, 

1  Blue  gloss. 


I2O  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

That  in  the  channel  strays  ;  895 

Whilst  from  off  the  waters  fleet 
Thus  I  set  my  printless  feet 
O'er  the  cowslip's  velvet  heady 
That  bends  not  as  I  tread. 

Gentle  swain,  at  thy  request  900 

I  am  here. 

Spirit.   Goddess  dear, 
We  implore  thy  powerful  hand 
To  undo  the  charmed  band 

Of  true  virgin  here  distressed,  905 

Through  the  force  and  through  the  wile 
Of  unblessed  enchanter  vile. 

Sabrina.   Shepherd,  'tis  my  office  best 
To  help  ensnared  chastity. 

Brightest  Lady,  look  on  me.  9io 

Thus  I  sprinkle  on  thy  breast 
Drops  that  from  my  fountain  pure 
I  have  kept  of  precious  cure  ; 
Thrice  upon  thy  finger's  tip, 

Thrice  upon  thy  rubied  lip  :  915 

Next  this  marbled  venomed *  seat, 
Smeared  with  gums  of  glutinous  heat, 
I  touch  with  chaste  palms  moist  and  cold. 
Now  the  spell  hath  lost  his  hold ; 
And  I  must  haste  ere  morning  hour  920 

To  wait  in  Amphitrite's  bower. 

1  Poisoned. 


Comus  121 

SABRINA  descends,  and  the  LADY  rises  out  of  her  seat 

Spirit.   Virgin,  daughter  of  Locrine, 
Sprung  of  old  Anchises'  line, 
May  thy  brimmed  waves  for  this 
Their  full  tribute  never  miss  925 

From  a  thousand  petty  rills 
That  tumble  down  the  snowy  hills ; 
Summer  drouth  or  singed  air 
Never  scorch  thy  tresses  fair, 

Nor  wet  October's  torrent  flood  930 

Thy  molten1  crystal  fill  with  mud ; 
May  thy  billows  roll  ashore 
The  beryl  and  the  golden  ore ; 
May  thy  lofty  head  be  crowned 
With  many  a  tower  and  terrace  round,  935 

And  here  and  there  thy  banks  upon 
With  groves  of  myrrh  and  cinnamon.  — 

Come,  Lady,  while  Heaven  lends  us  grace, 
Let  us  fly  this  cursed  place, 

Lest  the  sorcerer  us  entice  94° 

With  some  other  new  device. 
Not  a  waste  or  needless  sound 
Till  we  come  to  holier  ground  ! 
I  shall  be  your  faithful  guide 

Through  this  gloomy  covert2  wide ;  945 

And  not  many  furlongs  thence 
Is  your  father's  residence, 

1  Fluid.  2  Grove. 


122  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Where  this  night  are  met  in  state 

Many  a  friend  to  gratulate l 

His  wished  presence,  and  beside  950 

All  the  swains  that  there  abide 

With  jigs  and  rural  dance  resort. 

We  shall  catch  them  at  their  sport, 

And  our  sudden  coming  there 

Will  double  all  their  mirth  and  cheer.  955" 

Come,  let  us  haste  ;  the  stars  grow  high, 

But  Night  sits  monarch  yet  in  the  mid  sky. 

The  Scene  changes,  presenting  Ludlow  Town  and  the 
'President's  Castle ;  then  come  in  Country  Dancers, 
after  them  the  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  with  the  two  Brothers 
and  the  LADY. 

Song 

Spirit.   Back,  shepherds,  back  !  enough  your  play 
Till  next  sttnshine  holiday. 

Here  be,  without  duck  or  nod,  960 

Other  trippings  to  be  trod 
Of  lighter  toes,  and  such  court  guise 
As  Mercury  did  first  devise 
With  the  mincing  Dryades . 
On  the  lawns  and  on  the  leas.  965 

This   second   Song  presents   them  to  their  Father  and 

Mother 

Noble  Lord  and  Lady  bright, 
I  have  brought  ye  new  delight : 
1  Greet  with  joy. 


Comus  113 

Here  behold  so  goodly  grown 

Three  fair  branches  of  your  own. 

Heaven  hath  timely  tried  their  youth,  970 

Their  faith,  their  patience,  and  their  truth, 

And  sent  them  here  through  hard  assays 

With  a  crown  of  deathless  praise, 

To  triumph  in  victorious  dance 

O'er  sensual  folly  and  intemperance.  975 

The  dances  ended,  the  SPIRIT  epiloguizes 

Spirit.   To  the  ocean  now  Ifly, 
And  those  happy  climes  that  lie 
Where  day  never  shuts  his  eye, 
Up  in  the  broad  fields  of  the  sky. 
There  I  suck  the  liquid  air  980 

All  amidst  the  gardens  fair 
Of  Hesperus  and  his  daughters  three 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree 
Along  the  crisped1  shades  and  bowers 
Revels  the  spruce  and  jocund  Spring ;  985 

The  Graces  and  the  rosy-bosomed  Hours 
Thither  all  their  bounties  bring.    . 
There  eternal  Summer  dwells, 
And  west  winds  with  musky  wing 
About  the  cedarn  alleys  fling  990 

Nard  and  cassia's  balmy  smells. 
Iris  there  with  humid  bow 
Waters  the  odorous  banks,  that  blow 
1  Crinkled  edged. 


124  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Flowers  of  more  mingled  hue 

Than  her  purfled l  scarf  can  shew,  995 

And  drenches  with  Elysian  dew  — 

List,  mortals,  if  *your  ears  be  true  !  — 

Beds  of  hyacinth  and  roses, 

Where  young  Ad^pis  oft  reposes, 

Waxing  well  of  liiTdeep  wound  1000 

In'slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 

Sadly  sits  the  Assyrian  quejen. 

But  far  above  in*spanglea  sheen 

Celestial  Cupid  her  famed  son  advanced 

Holds  his  dear  Psyche,  sweet  entranced  1005 

After  her  w^jadering  labours  long, 

Till  free  consent  the  gods  among 

Make  her  his  eternal  bride, 

And  from  her  fair  unspotted  side 

Two  blissful  twins  are  to  be  born  1010 

Youth  and  Joy ;  so  Jove  hath  sworn. 

But  now  my  task  is  smoothly  done  : 
I  can  fly,  or  I  can  run 
Quickly  to  the  green  earth's  end, 
Where  the  bow'd  welkin 2  slow  doth  bend,    \ 

A  ill         A> 

And  from  thence  can  soar  as  soon 
To  the  corners  of  the  moon. 

Mortals,  that  would  follow  me, 
Love  Virtue ;  she  alone  is  free^ 
She  can  teach  ye  how  to  climb 

1  Embroidered  or  worked.  2  Heaven. 


Comus  125 


Higher  than  the  sphery  chime  ; l 
«  Or,  if  Virtue  feeble  were, 
Heaven  itself  would  stoop  to  her.  < 

1  Music  of  the  spheres. 


LYCIDAS 

In  this  Monody  the  Author  bewails  a  learned  Friend,  unfortunately 
drowned  in  his  passage  from  Chester  on  the  Irish  Seas,  1637;  an(^ 
by  occasion  foretells  the  ruin  of  our  corrupted  Clergy,  then  in  their 
height. 

YET  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more, 

Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere,1 

I  come  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  and  crude, 

And  with  forced  fingers  rude 

Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year.  5 

Bitter  constraint  and  sad  occasion  dear 

Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due ; 

For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 

Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer.2 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?     He  knew  10 

Himself  to  sing  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme. 

He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 

Unwept,  and  welter3  to  the  parching  wind, 

Without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear. 

Begin,  then,  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well  15 

That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring ; 
Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 
Hence  with  denial  vain  and  coy  excuse ; 
So  may  some  gentle  Muse 

1  Withered.  2  Equal.  8  Roll  about. 

126 


Lycidas  127 

With  lucky  words  favour  my  destined  urn,1  20 

And  as  he  passes  turn, 

And  bid  fair  peace  be  to  my  sable  shroud  ! 

For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  self-same  hill, 
Fed  the  same  flock  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill ; 
Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appeared  25 

Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  Morn, 
We  drove  a-field,  and  both  together  heard 
What  time  the  grey  fly  winds  her  sultry  horn, 
Battening 2  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 
Oft  till  the  star  that  rose  at  evening  bright  30 

Toward  Heaven's  descent  had  sloped  his  westering  wheel. 
Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute ; 
Tempered3  to  the  oaten  flute    , 
Rough  Satvrs  danced,  and  F^yjis  with  cloven  heel 
From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long,  35 

And  old  Damoetas  loved  to  hear  our  song. 

But,  oh  !  the  heavy  change,  now  thou  art  gone, 
Now  thou  art  gone  and  never  must  return  ! 
Thee,  shepherd,  thee  the  woods  and  desert  caves, 
With  wild  thyme  and  the  gadding4  vine  o'ergrown,        40 
And  all  their  echoes  mourn. 
The  willows  and  the  hazel  copses  green 
Shall  now  no  more  be  seen 
Fanning  their  joyous  leaves  to  thy  soft  lays. 
As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose.  45 

Or  taint-worm  to  the  weanling5  herds  that  graze, 


1  Appointed  grave.  2  Feeding.  8  In  time. 

4  Wandering.  5  Newly  weaned. 


128  Milton's   Minor  Poems 

Or  frost  to  flowers,  that  their  gay  wardrobe  wear 

When  first  the  white-thorn  blows ; 

Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  shepherd's  ear. 

Where  were  ye,  Nymphs,  when  the  remorseless  deep  50 
Closed  o'er  the  head  of  your  loved  Lycidas  ? 
For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  steep 
Where  your  old  bards,  the  famous  Doiids,  lie, 
Nor  on  the  shaggy  top  of  Mpna  high, 
Nor  yet  where  Deva  spreads  her  wizard  stream.  55 

Ay  me,  I  fondly  dream  ! 

Had  ye  been  there  —  for  what  could  that  have  done  ? 
What  could  the  Muse  herself  that  Orpheus  bore, 
The  Muse  herself,  for  her  enchanting  son, 
Whom  universal  nature  did  lament,  60 

When  by  the  rout  that  made  the  hideous  roar 
His  gory  visage  down  the  stream  was  sent, 
Down  the  swift  Hd^rus  to  the  Lesbian  shore? 

Alas  !  what  boots  it  with  incessant  care 
To  tend  the  homely,  slighted,  shepherd's  trade,  65 

And  strictly  meditate  the  thankless  Muse? 
Were  it  not  better  done,  as  others  use, 
To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade, 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Neaera's  hair? 
Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise —         70 
That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind  — 
To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days; 
But  the  fair  guerdon *  when  we  hope  to  find, 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze, 
1  Reward. 


\\ 


Lycidas  129 


Comes  the  blind  Fury  with  the  abhorred  shears,  75 

And  slits  the  thin-spun  life.     '  But  not  the  praise/ 

Phoebus  replied,  and  touched  my  trembling  ears  ; 

'  Fame  is  no  plant  that  grows  on  mortal  soil, 

Nor  in  the  glistering  foil1 

Set  off  to  the  world,  nor  in  broad  rumour  lies,  80 

But  lives  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes 

And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove  ; 

As  he  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed, 

Of  some  much  fame  in  Heaven  expect  thy  meed.' 

O  fountain  Arejjjuse,  and  thou  honoured  flood,  ^ 

Smooth-sliding  Mincjus,  crowned  with  vocal  reeds, 
That  strain  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood; 
But  now  my  oat  proceeds, 
And  listens  to  the  Herald  of  the  Sea 
That  came  in  Nepiwee's  plea.  90 

He  asked  the  waves,  and  asked  the  felon  2  winds, 
What  hard  mishap  hath  doomed  this  gentle  swain? 
And  questioned  every  gust  of  rugged  wings 
That  blows  from  off  each  beaked  promontory. 
They  knew  not  of  his  story  ;  95 

And  sage  Hippcrtades  their  answer  brings, 
That  not  a  blast  was  from  his  dungeon  strayed  : 
The  air  was  calm,  and  on  the  level  brine 
Sleek  Panppe  with  all  her  sisters  played. 
It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark,  100 

Built  in  the  eclipse  and  rigged  with  curses  dark, 
That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine.    . 

1  Leaf,  as  in  gold  or  tin  foil.  2  Thievish. 

MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS  —  9 


130  Milton's  Minor  Poems 

Next  Camus,  reverend  sire,  went  footing  1  slow, 
His  mantle  hairy  and  his  bonnet  sedge, 
Inwrought  with  figures  dim,  and  on  the  edge  105 

Like  to  that  sanguine 2  flower  inscribed  with  woe. 
'  Ah  !  who  hath  reft,'  quoth  he,  '  my  dearest  pledge? ' 
Last  came,  and  last  did  go, 
The  Pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake ; 

Two  massy  keys  he  bore  of  metals  twain —  no 

The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain. 
He  shook  his  mitred  locks,  and  stern  bespake  : 
'  How  well  could  I  have  spared  for  thee,  young  swain, 
Enow  of  such  as  for  their  bellies'  sake 
Creep. and  intrude  and  climb  into  the  fold  !  115 

Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make 
Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearers'  feast, 
And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest. 
Blind  mouths  !  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  hold 
A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learnt  aught  else  the  least          120 
That  to  the  faithful  herdman's  art  belongs  ! 
What  recks  it  them?      What  need  they?      They  are 

sped; 

And,  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 
Grate  on  their  scrannel 3  pipes  of  wretched  straw. 
The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  and  are  not  fed,  125 

But,  swoln  with  wind  and  the  rank  mist  they  draw, 
Rot  inwardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread ; 
Besides  what  the  grim  wolf  with  privy 4  paw 
Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothing  said. 

1  Walking.        2  Purple.        8  Hoarse,  worthless.        4  Secret. 


Lycidas  131 

But  that  two-handed l  engine  at  the  door  130 

Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more/ 

Return,  Alpheus,  the  dread  voice  is  past 
That  shrunk  thy  streams ;  return,  Sicilian  Muse, 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast 
Their  bells  and  flowerets  of  a  thousand  hues.  135 

Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star  sparely  looks, 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamelled 2  eyes, 
That  on  the  green  turf,  suck  the  honeyed  showers          140 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe 3  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink  and  the  pansy  freaked 4  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet,  145 

The  musk-rose  and  the  well-attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears : 
Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 
And  daffadillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears,  150 

To  strew  the  laureate 5  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 
For  so,  to  interpose  a  little  ease, 
Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise, 
Ay  me  !  whilst  thee  the  shores  and  sounding  seas 
Wash  far  away,  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurled :  155 

Whether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides, 

1  Requiring  two  hands  to  wield  it.       2  Variegated.      8  Early. 
*  Marked.      6  Worthy  of  the  laurel  wreath,  or  laurel  crowned. 


Milton's  Minor  Poems 


Where  thou  perhaps  under  the  whelming  tide 

Visit'st  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  world  ; 

Or  whether  thou,  to  our  moist  vows  denied, 

Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old,  160 

Where  the  great  Vision  of  the  guarded  mount 

Looks  toward  Namancos  and  Bayona's  hold. 

Look  homeward,  Angel,  now,  and  melt  with  ruth, 

And,  O  ye  dolphins,  waft  the  hapless  youth  ! 

Weep  no  more,  woeful  shepherds,  weep  no  more,     165 
For  Lycidas,  your  sorrow,  is  not  dead, 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor. 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore  l        170 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of^the  morning  sky  : 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high, 
Through  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walked  the  waves, 
Where,  other  groves  and  other  streams  along, 
With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves,  175 

And  hears  the  unexpressive  2  nuptial  song 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above, 
In  solemn  troops  and  sweet  societies, 
That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move,  180 

And  wipe  the  tears  for  ever  from  his  eyes. 
Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more  ; 
Henceforth  thou  art  the  Genius  of  the  shore, 
In  thy  large  recompense,3  and  shalt  be  good 

1  Metal.  2  Inexpressible.  3  Reward. 


Lycidas  133 

To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood.  185 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth l  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills, 
While  the  still  morn  went  out  with  sandals  grey. 
He  touched  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills, 
With  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay ; 
And  now  the  sun  had  stretched  out 2  all  the  hills,          190 
And  now  was  dropt  into  the  western  bay. 
At  last  he  rose,  and  twitched  his  mantle  blue : 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new. 

1  Unknown.  2  Lengthened  by  shadow. 


NOTES 


L'ALLEGRO 

x.  Loathed  Melancholy.  Milton  had  read  and  thought  much 
on  this  subject.  The  student  should  notice  that  there  is  a  genuine 
energy  in  the  order  and  characterization  that  compensates  for  the 
conventionally  languid  associations  of  the  words.  See  Milton's 
Paradise  Lost,  xi.  485,  486:  "moping  melancholy,  And  moon- 
struck madness." 

See  also  quotation  from  Bullein  in  More's  Utopia,  tr.  by  Robin- 
son, ii.  7,  note,  "  Melancholy,  that  cold,  dry,  wretched,  saturnine 
humour,  creepeth  in  with  a  leane,  pale,  or  swartysh  colour,  which 
reigneth  upon  solitarye,  carefull-inusyng  men." 

See  further,  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (Bohn's  ed.,  vol.  i. 
p.  9),  The  Author's  Abstract,  last  stanza: 

"  I'll  change  my  state  with  any  wretch, 
Thou  canst  from  gaol  or  dunghill  fetch ; 
My  pain's  past  cure,  another  Hell, 
I  may  not  in  this  torment  dwell ! 
How  desperate  I  hate  my  life, 
Lend  me  a  halter  or  a  knife ; 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly, 
Naught  so  damn'd  as  Melancholy." 

2.  Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  Midnight  born.  The  natural  his- 
tory of  excessive  Melancholy  is  presented  with  Milton's  customary 
independence  in  the  use  of  borrowed  suggestion.  Classkal  mythol- 
ogy makes  Erebus  the  husband  of  Night.  Cerberus  was  the  dog  of 
Pluto  and  guardian  of  Hades. 

135 


136  Notes 

3.  Stygian.  An  adjective  used  again  by  Milton,  Paradise  Lost, 
x.  453,  meaning,  of  course,  pertaining  to  the  river  Styx,  and  carry- 
ing the  force  of  all  the  related  associations  of  darkness,  the  under- 
world, and  compulsion.  See  Spenser,  Virgil's  Gnat,  1.  437 : 

"  Bold  sure  he  was,  and  worthie  spirite  bore, 
That  durst  those  lowest  shadowes  goe  to  see, 
And  could  beleeve  that  anie  thing  could  please 
Fell  Cerberus,  or  Stygian  powres  appease." 

5.  Uncouth.    The  literal  meaning  of  the  word  is  indicated  by 
its  grammatical  form  —  the  negative  of  a  past  participle,  meaning 
known,  of  an  Old  English  verb.     Here  it  means  remote,  secret.     In 
other  connections  it  means  awkward,  rude.     The  verb  appears  in 
Modern  English  only  in  this  form. 

6.  Jealous  wings.    The  cause  is  here  used  for  the  effect.    The 
brooding  wings  keep  out  intruders,  even  light  and  cheer. 

7.  Night-raven.     The  night-heron  or  night-crow.     See  Shake- 
speare, Much  Ado,  ii.  3.  83 :     "I  pray  God  his  bad  voice  bode  no 
mischief.      I  had  as  lief  have  heard  the  night-raven,  come  what 
plague  could  have  come  after  it." 

8.  9.  And  low-browed  rocks,  As  ragged  as  thy  locks.    See 
the  Century  Dictionary  for  discussion  of  rag,  ragged,  rough,  and 
rug.     Are  voices,  clothes,  sails,  clottds,  and  rocks  all  ragged  in  the 
same  sense? 

10.  Cimmerian.  In  Homer's  Odyssey,  xi.  14  (see  Chapman's 
tr.),  the  people  of  the  Cimmerians  are  described  as  dwelling  in 
eternal  cloud  and  darkness.  In  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy, 
Pt.  3,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  2,  occurs,  "Neither  is  it  sufficient  to 
keep  them  blind  and  in  Cimmerian  darkness."  See  Spenser,  Vir- 
gil's Gnat,  1.  370 : 

"  I  carried  am  into  waste  wildernesse, 
Waste  wildernes,  amongst  Cyrnerian  shades, 
Where  endless  paines  and  hideous  heavinesse 
Is  round  about  me  heapt  in  darksome  glades." 


L'  Allegro  137 

12.  Yclept  Euphrosyne.  Yclept  is  used  only  once  by  Milton. 
It  is  the  past  participle  of  the  Middle  English  verb  clepen,  to  call. 
The  Old  English  form  of  the  verb  was  deopian.  The  y  is  a  variant 
spelling  for  the  ge  of  the  past  participle,  as  in  German.  Milton 
uses  the  y  incorrectly  in  his  epitaph  on  Shakespeare,  "  Star- 
ypointing  pyramid.  "  Euphrosyne  (Mirth)  was  one  of  the  three 
graces.  Aglaia  (Brightness)  and  Thalia  (Bloom)  were  the  others. 
They  presided  over  the  kind  offices  of  life. 

14.  Whom  lovely  Venus,  etc.  Milton  here  deserts  the  classic 
mythology  and  invents  a  genealogy  more  to  his  mind  than  the  one 
that  makes  Mirth  the  daughter  of  Zeus. 

14.  At  a  birth.  See  the  Century  Dictionary  and  Nesfield's 
English  Grammar  for  the  use  of  a,  the,  an,  one. 

17.  As  some  sager  sing.  The  use  of  the  letter  s  should  be 
noticed  through  this  verse.  For  sager  see  //  Penseroso,  1.  117.  The 
order  of  words  in  the  phrase  gives  sager  something  of  the  force  of 
an  adverb.  The  student  should  consider  whether  it  is  a  permissible 
prose  form. 

20.  A-Maying.  See  the  Century  Dictionary  and  Nesfield's  Eng- 
lish Grammar  for  this  use  of  a.  Compare  a-Jishing,  a-courting, 
a-field,  a- bed. 

24.  So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair.  Note  the  relation  of 
vowels  and  consonants  in  this  phrase.  Buxom  is  used  only  twice 
by  Milton.  See  Paradise  Lost,  ii.  842,  but  it  was  used  in  the  sense 
of  lively  or  brisk  by  Shakespeare  in  Hen.  V.,  iii.  6.  28;  in  the 
sense  of  obedient  by  Gower,  Confessio  Amantis,  ii.  221.  In  the 
Ancren  Riwle  it  is  spelled  buksum.  The  Old  English  verb  from 
which  it  is  formed  is  bugan,  to  bow.  This  form  does  not  appear 
in  Old  English,  but  is  common  in  Middle  English.  Compare  glad- 
some, winsome,  darksome.  Blithe  means  happy,  through  the  orig- 
inal force  of  the  adjective  in  Old  English.  Compare  with  blink 
and  the  associated  idea  in  blican,  to  shine.  See  Burton's  Anatomy 
of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  5,  Subs.  5,  for  similar  phrase,  "  I 
am  a  fatherless  child,  and  want  means,  I  am  blithe  and  buxom, 


138  Notes 

young  and  lusty,  but  I  have  never  a  suitor."  .  .  .  See  also  Spen- 
ser's Prosopopoia  : 

11  So  wilde  a  beast  so  tame  ytaught  to  bee, 
And  buxome  to  his  bands,  is  joy  to  see." 

Debonair  is  simply  the  French  phrase  in  common  use  at  the  time, 
de  bonne  air,  meaning,  first,  of  good  appearance;  later,  of  pleasant 
manners,  courteous,  gay.  The  fashion  of  the  time  permitted  a  wide 
use  of  the  idea  in  grammatical  forms  that  have  since  become  obso- 
lete, i.e.  debonarity,  debonairness.  Debonairly  still  occurs  now  and 
then.  Study  this  combination  of  words  in  connection  with  fair 
and  free,  1.  II. 

27.  Quips  and  Cranks.     Quip  seems  to  be  of  Welsh  derivation 
and  means  to  move  quickly,  to  whip.     Lyly,  Alexander  and  Cam- 
paspe,  iii.  2  has,  "  Why,  what's  a  quip  ?     Wee  great  girders  call  it 
a  short  saying  of  a  sharp  wit,  with  a  better  sense  in  a  short  word." 
Crank  is  probably  from  the  Old  English  verb  crincan,  to  bow,  to 
fall,  to  bend.     In  the  sense  of  a  bending  of  speech,  a  conceit,  it 
appears  in  all  stages  of  English.     Spenser's  Prosopopoia  has : 

"  And  with  sharp  quips  joy'd  others  to  deface, 
Thinking  that  their  disgracing  did  him  grace." 

28.  Nods  and  becks.    Robert  Burton,  in  his  Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly, Pt.  3,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  2,  Subs.  4,  quotes  and  translates  from 
Musseus : 

"  With  becks  and  nods  he  first  began 

To  try  the  wench's  mind ; 
With  becks  and  nods  and  smiles  again 
An  answer  he  did  find." 

33.   Trip  it.     Compare  lord  it  and  similar  expressions. 

44.  Dappled  dawn.  A  word  manufactured  before  Milton  from 
dapple,  a  spot.  The  verb  appears  in  Shakespeare's  Much  Ado,  v. 
3-27. 

62.  Dight.  See  Latin  dictare,  to  prescribe.  The  Old  English 
form  is  dihtan,  to  set  in  order.  The  full  form  of  the  participle  is 


L'  Allegro  139 

dighted.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  use  the  abbreviated  form  of  the 
verb,  "And  have  a  care  you  dight  things  handsomely."  Ben  Jonson 
and  Edmund  Spenser  also  use  it. 

67.  Tells  his  tale.  This  is  Milton's,  as  well  as  many  another 
writer's,  way  of  saying,  "  counts  his  flock."  Tells  is  from  the  Old 
English  verb  tellan,  a  weak  verb  formed  from  talu,  a  number,  a 
tale.  Compare  "sings  his  song,"  "work  the  works,"  etc.  See 
also  //  Penseroso,  1 70. 

69.  Straight.     Compare  straightaway. 

70.  Landskip  round.    Compare  "  the  country  round."     Skeat's 
note  to  the  effect  that  Blount's  Glossary,  1674,  makes  it  clear  that 
it  was  originally  a  painter's  term  to  express  'all  that  part  of  a  pic- 
ture which  is  not  of  the  body  or  argument,'  answering  somewhat 
to  the  modern  term  background,  is  an  error  as  far  as  Milton's  use 
of  the  word  is  concerned.     In  the  Old  English  paraphrase  of  the 
Scriptures,  attributed   to  Caedmon,   occurs  the   following,  in   the 
speech  of  Satan  in  Hell,  "  ic  a  ne  geseah  lathran  landscipe,"  never 
have  I  looked  upon  a  more  hideous  landscape.     Neither  the  author 
of  these  words  nor  the  supposed  speaker  could  have  had  any  inter- 
est in  painter's  slang.     See  also  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy, 
Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  4 :  "  with  many  pretty  landskips  and  perspective 
pieces." 

71.  Lawns  and  fallows.    Lawns  is  a  word  of  uncertain  origin. 
It  is  perhaps  a  decorative  variant  of  land.      Old   English  fealu 
means  yellow,  applied  to  the  colour  of  untilled  ground,  then  became 
the  name  for  the  ground  itself. 

75.  Pied.  Party-coloured,  spotted.  Does  pied  belong  to 
"  daisies  "  or  to  "  meadows  trim  "  ? 

80.  Cynosure.  Latin  cynosura.  The  last  of  the  three  stars  in 
the  tail  of  the  Lesser  Bear  is  the  pole  star,  the  centre  of  attraction 
to  the  magnet.  In  the  Greek  word,  the  meaning  is  dog^s  tail. 

83.  Corydon  and  Thyrsis.  Conventional  names  for  the  conven- 
tional shepherds  of  pastoral  poetry,  taken,  with  other  machinery  of 
poetry,  from  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 


140  Notes 

86.  Phyllis.     See  note  to  83,  above. 

87.  Bower.     In  the  Old  English  this  meant  simply  a  woman's 
apartment. 

88.  Thestylis,     See  note  to  83,  above. 

94.  Jocund  rebecks.  Means  merry  fiddles.  Jocund  is  of  French 
derivation  and  rebeck  of  French,  or  Italian,  from  the  Persian. 

96.  Chequered  shade.  The  force  peculiar  to  cheqitered  here  is 
felt  probably,  but  is  most  interestingly  accounted  for  in  the  history 
of  the  word.  It  is  formed  from  check,  a  term  used  in  the  game  of 
chess  to  call  attention  to  the  danger  of  the  king.  The  Persian 
form,  shah-mat,  meant  the  king  is  dead.  The  English  check  comes 
through  Old  French. 

98.  Sunshine  holiday.  Milton  used  this  phrase  again  in  the 
spirits'  song  in  Camus.  See  also  Shakespeare's  Richard  //.,  iv.  i. 
221,  "And  send  him  many  years  of  sunshine  days."  Also  Whit- 
tier's  My  'Soul  and  /,  "Summon  thy  sunshine  bravery  back,  O 
wretched  sprite !  " 

102.  How  Faery  Mab  the  junkets  eat.  Fairy  Mab  is  in  folk 
and  fairy  lore  the  fairies'  midwife.  Shakespeare  calls  her  Queen, 
and  is  the  first  to  do  so.  Her  duty  is  also  to  deliver  the  fancies  of 
men  and  to  make  dreams  by  driving  in  her  chariot  over  the  sleeper. 
The  form  fairy  Mab  is  the  result  of  a  misuse  established  long 
before  Milton.  Fairy  means  enchantment,  as  in  Piers  Plowman 
and  in  Chaucer.  The  term  for  elf  is  fay.  Junkets  were  cream 
cheeses  served  on  rushes.  See  Old  French  jonchec,  a  bundle  of 
rushes.  Finally  it  was  any  kind  of  sweetmeats,  or  a  feast  or  merry- 
making. See  Ben  Jonson's  The  Satyr  : 

"  This  is  Mab,  the  Mistress-Faery, 
That  doth  nightly  rob  the  dairy, 
And  can  hurt  or  help  the  cherning, 
As  she  please,  without  discerning. 


She  that  pinches  country  wenches, 
If  they  rub  not  clean  their  benches, 


L'  Allegro  141 


And  with  sharper  nails  remembers 
When  they  rake  not  up  their  embers : 
But  if  so  they  chance  to  feast  her, 
In  a  shoe  she  drops  a  tester." 

104,  105.  Friar's  lantern  .  .  .  drudging  goblin.  There  is 
really  no  difficulty  in  this  connection  between  the  Friar's  lantern 
and  the  drudging  goblin.  Friar*s  lantern  was  one  of  the  names 
by  which  Goodfellow  went,  but  it  was  also  a  name  for  the  ignis 
fatuus  by  which  devils  misled  men.  The  whole  passage  is  a  poet- 
ical paraphrase  of  the  elaborate  classification  and  description  of 
spirits  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  I, 
Subs.  2,  from  which  the  following  interesting  passages  bearing  on 
Milton's  poem  are  quoted:  "Fiery  spirits  or  devils  are  such  as 
commonly  work  by  blazing  stars,  firedrakes,  or  ignes  fatid ;  which 
lead  men  often  in  flumina  aut  praecipitia,  .  .  .  Terrestrial  devils 
are  those  Lares,  Genii,  Fauns,  Satyrs,  Wood-nymphs,  Foliots,  Fai- 
ries, Robin  Goodfellows,  Trulli,  etc.,  which  as  they  are  most  con- 
versant with  men,  so  they  do  them  most  harm.  .  .  .  Some  put  our 
fairies  into  this  rank,  which  have  been  in  former  times  adored  with 
much  superstition,  with  sweeping  their  houses,  and  setting  of  a  pail 
of  clean  water,  good  victuals,  and  the  like,  and  then  they  should 
not  be  pinched,  but  find  money  in  their  shoes,  and  be  fortunate  in 
their  enterprises.  ...  A  bigger  kind  there  is  of  them,  called  with 
us  Hobgoblins  and  Robin  Goodfellows,  that  would  in  those  super- 
stitious times  grind  corn  for  a  mess  of  milk,  cut  wood  or  do  any 
manner  of  drudgery  work.  .  .  .  Cardan  holds,  *  They  will  make 
strange  noises  in  the  night,  howl  sometimes  pitifully,  and  then  laugh 
again,  cause  great  flame  and  sudden  lights,  fling  stones,  rattle  chains, 
shave  men,  open  doors  and  shut  them,  fling  down  platters,  stools, 
chests,  sometimes  appear  in  the  likeness  of  hares,  crows,  black  dogs, 
etc.'  .  .  .  And  so  likewise  those  which  Mizaldus  calls  Ambulones, 
that  walk  about  midnight  on  great  heaths  and  desert  places,  which 
(saith  Lavater)  *  draw  men  out  of  the  way,  and  lead  them  all  night 
a  bye-way,  or  quite  bar  them  of  their  way;  these  have  several 


142  Notes 


names  in  several  places;  we  commonly  call  them  Pucks."  See  also 
The  Pranks  of  Puck,  ascribed  to  Ben  Jonson,  cited  by  W.  J.  Rolfe. 

no.  Lubber  fiend.  The  form  lobur  occurs  in  Piers  Plowman. 
The  word  is  probably  of  Celtic  origin  and  meant  drooping,  ineffi- 
cient, clumsy. 

in.  Chimney's  length.  The  rhyme  requires  length;  literally 
the  word  should  be  width* 

112.  Basks.  The  interesting  thing  about  this  word  is  the 
doubt  whether  it  is  the  reflexive  of  a  verb  meaning  to  bake  or  to 
bathe.  The  evidence  seems  stronger  for  the  derivation  from  bathe. 

120.  In  weeds  of  peace.  Weed  means  a  garment.  The 
Teutonic  base  is  WAD,  to  bind. 

120.  High  triumphs.  The  doublet  of  triumph  is  trump.  Why 
did  Milton  use  triumph  ? 

122.  Rain  influence.  The  term  influence  is  astrological  in  ori- 
gin. Note  the  use  of  rain  in  this  connection.  Cotgrave  gives, 
Old  French  influence^  "  a  flowing  in,  and  particularly  an  influence, 
or  influent  course,  of  the  planets;  their  virtue  infused  into,  or  their 
course  working  on,  inferior  creatures. " 

125.   Hymen.     The  god  of  marriage.     See  Jonson's  Hymenaei. 

132.  Jonson's  learned  sock.  The  sock  was  the  low-heeled  shoe 
worn  in  comedy.  Jonson  was  noted  for  almost  pedantic  learning. 
See  Spenser,  An  Hymne  in  Honour  of  Beautie  : 

"  What  time  this  world's  great  workmaister  did  cast 
To  make  al  things  such  as  we  now  behold, 
It  seemes  that  he  before  his  eyes  had  plast 
A  goodly  Paterne,  to  whose  perfect  mould 
He  fashioned  them  as  comely  as  he  could. 
That  now  so  faire  and  seemely  they  appeare, 
As  nought  may  be  amended  any  wheare. 

11  That  wondrous  Paterne,  wheresoere  it  bee, 
Whether  in  earth  layd  up  in  secret  store, 
Or  else  in  heaven,  that  no  man  may  it  see 
With  sinfull  eyes,  for  feare  it  do  deflore,* 


L'Allegro  143 

Is  perfect  Beautie,  which  all  men  adore ; 
Whose  face  and  feature  doth  so  much  excell 
All  mortall  sence,  that  none  the  same  may  tell, 

Thereof  as  every  earthly  thing  partakes, 

Or  more  or  lesse,  by  influence  divine 

So  it  more  faire  accordingly  it  makes  "... 

135.  Eating  cares.     Horace,  Ode  I.  18.  4,  has  mor daces  sollici- 
tudines,  and  Ode  II.  1 1.  18,  cur  as  edaces.     Burton's  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  6,  Subs.  2,  "  When  the  patient  of 
himself  is  not  able  to  resist  or  overcome  these  heart-eating  pas- 
sions." .  .  . 

136.  Lydian  airs.    Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec. 
2,  Mem.  6,  Subs.  3,  says :  "  But  to  have  all  declamatory  speeches 
in  praise  of  divine  Musick,  I  will  confine  myself  to  my  proper  sub- 
ject;   besides  that  excellent  power  it  hath  to  expel  many  other 
diseases,  it  is  a  sovereign  remedy  against  Despair  and  Melancholy, 
and  will  drive  away  the  Devil  himself  .   .   .  Lewis  the  Eleventh, 
when  he  invited  Edward  the  Fourth  to  come  to  Paris,  told  him 
that,  as  a  principal  part  of  his  entertainment,  he  should  hear  sweet 
voices  of  children,  lonick  and  Lydian  tunes." 

139.  Bout.  Another  spelling  is  bought.  The  word  means  a 
turning.  The  Gothic  verb  biugan,  to  bow  or  bend,  gives  the  original 
sense. 

147.  Elysian  flowers.  The  Elysian  fields  were  the  abode  of  the 
blessed  after  death.  Milton  uses  the  term  probably  to  suggest  the 
blessing,  beauty,  and  deathless  charm  of  flowers  not  plucked  on 
earth. 

151,  152.  It  is  customary  to  point  out  the  comparison  that  may 
be  made  between  this  concluding  couplet  and  Marlowe's  The  Pas- 
sionate Shepherd  to  his  Love  : 

"  If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  move, 
Then  live  with  me  and  be  my  Love." 

Both  are  certainly  ffcte  poetry. 


144  Notes 


IL  PENSEROSO 

i.  Hence,  vain  deluding  Joys.  The  opening  verses  of  //  Pen- 
seroso  should  be  compared  with  those  of  L?  Allegro.  The  purpose 
artistically  is  the  same,  the  means  employed,  similar;  but  the  sug- 
gestions and  associations  are  utterly  different. 

3.  Bested.  This  word,  of  Scandinavian  origin,  is  usually  in  the 
participial  form.  Here  it  means  assist,  help. 

6.   Fond.     Here  means  foolish. 

12.  Divines!  Melancholy.  See  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly, The  Author's  Abstract  : 

"  Methinks  I  hear,  methinks  I  see, 
Sweet  musick,  wondrous  melody, 
Towns,  Palaces,  and  Cities  fine ; 
Here  now,  then  there ;  the  world  is  mine, 
Rare  beauties,  gallant  Ladies  shine, 
Whate'er  is  lovely  or  divine ; 
All  other  joys  to  this  are  folly, 
None  so  sweet  as  Melancholy." 

14.  To  hit  the  sense.  See  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra, ii.  2.  217 :  "A  strange  invisible  perfume  hits  the  sense." 

18.  Prince  Memnon's  sister.    The  beautiful  Ethiopian  prince 
who  came  to  help  Priam  was  Memnon.     Milton  extends  his  fame  to 
his  sister  —  for  what  poetic  ends? 

19.  That  starred  Ethiop.     Cassiope,  the  rival  of  the  Nereids 
in  beauty.     Raised  to  heaven,  she  was  made  a  constellation. 

23.  Bright-haired  Vesta.    The  virgin  goddess  of  the  hearth, 
one  of  the  twelve  great  Olympians. 

24.  Solitary  Saturn.     The  Italic  deity  of  social  order  and  civili- 
zation.    Ops,  goddess  of  wealth,  was  the   wife   assigned   him  by 
classic  mythology.     Here  again  Milton  has  arranged  a  genealogy 
to  suit  himself  and  the  purposes  of  his  poem. 

30.  While  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jo^f.    Milton  evidently 


II  Penseroso  145 

identifies  Saturn  with  Cronus,  thus  suggesting  the  dethronement  of 
the  father  by  the  son.  Mythology  makes  Zeus  the  rebellious  son 
of  Cronus.  Milton  identifies  Zeus  with  Jupiter.  See  Burton's 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Ft.  3,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  3 :  "  Saturn  a 
man  ...  did  eat  his  own  children,  a  cruel  tyrant  driven  out  of  his 
kingdom  by  his  son  Jupiter,  as  good  a  god  as  himself." 

33.  Grain.  Colour.  Kermes,  like  cochineal,  were  supposed  to 
be  berries  or  grains,  an_d  colours  dyed  with  them  were  said  to  be 
grained,  or  ingrained.  See  the  Century  Dictionary. 

35.    Stole.     Scarf. 

35.  Cypress  lawn.  The  word  cypress  is  of  unknown  origin. 
Lawn  is  perhaps  a  corruption  of  linon,  an  imported  PVench  name 
of  fine  linen. 

42.  Forget  thyself  to  marble.  Notice  Milton's  fondness  for 
certain  descriptive  expressions.  Cf.  On  Shakespeare,  14,  and  Comus, 
660.  See  also  Ben  Jonson's  Underwoods,  An  Elegy  on  the  Lady 
Jane  Pawlet : 

11 1  am  almost  a  stone ! 
.  .  .  Alas,  I  am  all  marble !  write  the  rest 
Thou  wouldsl  have  written,  Fame,  upon  my  breast: 
It  is  a  large  fair  table,  and  a  true." 

53.  Fiery-wheeled  throne.     See  Ezekiel x. 

54.  Contemplation.     See  Comus,  377.     See  Burton's  Anatomy 
of  Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  2,  Subs.  6:    "A  most  incom- 
parable delight  it  is  so  to  melancholize  and  build  castles  in  the 
air.  ...     So  delightsome  those  toys  are  at  first,  they  could  spend 
whole  days  and  nights  without  sleep,  even  whole  years  alone  in 
such  contemplations^.  .  .     I  may  not  deny  but  that  there  is  some 
profitable  meditation,  contemplation,  and  kind  of  solitariness  to  be 
embraced,  which  the  Fathers  so  highly  commended  ...  a  Para- 
dise, an  Heaven  on  earth,  if  it  be  used  aright,  good  for  the  body 
and  better  for  the  soul :  as  many  of  those  old  Monks  used  it,  to 
divine  contemplations."  .  .  . 

MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS — 10 


146  Notes 

55.  Hist.  Probably  the  interjection  enjoining  silence  used  as  a 
past  participle.  Notice  the  order  of  the  so-called  "  parts  of  speech  " 
in  this  passage. 

59.  Cynthia.  A  name  for  Artemis  or  Diana,  the  moon  goddess, 
from  her  birthplace,  Mount  Cynthus  in  Delos. 

59.  Dragon  yoke.  The  reference  here  is  astrological,  not  mytho- 
logical. The  nodes  of  planets,  especially  of  the  moon,  or  the  two 
points  in  which  the  orbits  of  the  planets  intersect  the  ecliptic,  were 
called  Dragon's  head  and  tail,  because  the  figure  representing  the 
passage  of  a  planet  from  one  node  to  the  other  was  thought  to 
resemble  that  of  a  dragon.  Furthermore,  there  was  an  old  northern 
constellation  called  Draco  in  the  space  now  occupied  by  the  Little 
Bear.  Yoke  is  any  bond  of  connection  as  well  as  the  specific  con- 
trivance Jfor  fastening  draught  animals  together.  The  phrase  is 
learned  poetry  for  the  moon  lingers. 

74.  Curfew.  French,  couvre-feu,  fire  cover.  The  bell  calling 
for  the  covering  of  fires  and  the  putting  out  of  lights  near  eight 
o'clock. 

83.  The  bellman's  drowsy  charm.  The  old  cry  of  the  London 
bellman  (or  watch)  at  night  was,  Lanthorne  and  candle  light. 
See  Heywood's  Edward  IV.,  First  Part,  1.  circa  508,  "  no  more 
calling  of  lanthorn  and  candle  light." 

87.  Outwatch  the  Bear.     The  constellation  of  the  Bear  does 
not  set  in  the  latitude  of  England. 

88.  Thrice-great  Hermes.     A  translation  of  the  name  Hermes 
Trismegistus  given  to  the  Egyptian  Thoth. 

88.   Or  unsphere.     Bring  back  to  earth. 

go.  What  worlds  or  what  Vast  regions  hojd,  etc.  Burton's 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  I,  Mem.  c,  Subs.  9:  "Others 
grant  the  immortality  thereof  (the  soul),  but  they  make  many  fabu- 
lous fictions  in  the  meantime  of  it,  afte'r  the  departure  from  the 
body,  like  Plato's  Elysian  Fields  and  that  Turkey  Paradise." 

93.  And  of  those  demons.  Burton  quotes  and  translates  Aus- 
tin: "They  are  confined  until  the  day  of  judgment  to  this  sublunary 


II  Penseroso  147 

world,  and  can  work  no  farther  than  the  four  elements^  and  as  God 
permits  them.  Wherefore  of  these  sublunary  Devils,  though  others 
divide  them  otherwise  according  to  their  several  places  and  offices, 
Psellus  makes  Six  kinds,  fiery,  aerial,  terrestrial,  watery,  and  subter- 
ranean Devils,  besides  those  Fairies,  Satyrs,  Nymphs,  etc."  Again 
Burton  cites  in  the  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  I, 
Subs.  2 :  "  Gregorius  Tholosanus  makes  seven  kinds  of  aetherial 
Spirits  or  Angels,  according  to  the  number  of  the  seven  Planets, 
Saturnine,  Jovial,  Martial,  etc.  The  four  elements  were  earth,  air, 
fire,  water." 

103.  But,  0  sad  Virgin !    Tragedy. 

104.  Musseus.     An  Attic  poet  whose  name  meant  servant  of 
the  Muses,  and  who  was  fabled  to  have  presided  over  the  mysteries 
of  Demeter  at  Eleusis,  and  to  have  written  poems  concerning  them. 

109.  Or  call  up  him.  _  Chaucer  is  meant  here.  He  left  the 
Squire's  Tale  unfinished. 

120.  When  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear.  Allusion  is 
here  made  to  the  allegory  of  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene. 

122.   Civil-suited.     Not  starred  or  decorated. 

124.   Attic  boy.    Cephalus. 

132.   Goddess.    What  is  the  reference  here? 

134.    Sylvan.     Sylvanus,  the  god  of  woodlands. 

161.  Then  let  the  pealjpg  organ  blow,  etc.  See  Burton's 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  6,  Subs.  3:  "In  a 
word,  it  (music)  is  so  powerful  a  thing  that  it  ravisheth  the  soul, 
the  Queen  of  the  senses,  by  sweet  pleasure  (which  is  an  happy  cure) ; 
and  corporal  tunes  pacify  our  incorporal  soul  .  .  .  and  carries  it 
beyond  itself,  helps,  elevates,  extends  it."  See  Spenser's  Epithala- 
mion,  1.  218: 

11  And  let  the  roring  Organs  loudly  play 
The  praises  of  the  Lord  in  lively  notes ; 
The  whiles,  with  hollow  throates, 
The  Choristers  the  joyous  Antheme  sing, 
That  al  the  woods  may  answere,  and  their  eccho  ring." 


148  Notes 

Also  Amoretti)  xxxix. : 

"  A  melting  pleasance  ran  through  evry  part, 

And  me  revived  with  hart-robbing  gladnesse. 
Whylest  rapt  with  joy  resembling  heavenly  madnes, 
My  soul  was  ravisht  quite  as  in  a  traunce ; 
And  feeling  thence,  no  more  her  sorowes  sadnesse, 
Fed  on  the  fulnesse  of  that  chearefull  glaunce." 

170.  And  rightly  spell  Of.  This  is  a  construction  not  uncom- 
mon in  Burton's  and  in  Milton's  prose.  It  may  be  compared  with 
tell  of.  It  should  further  be  noted  that  0/"and  offwt  variants,  thus 
giving  the  form  spell  of  a  breadth  of  grammatical  suggestion  that 
was  characteristic  of  Milton.  See  Burton's  Anatomy  of  'Melancholy ', 
Pt.  I,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  3,  Sub.  13,  ...  "  brings  him  to  Gnipho,  the 
usurer's  house  at  midnight,  and  after  that  to  Eucratis  ;  whom  they 
found  both  awake  casting  up  their  accounts,  and  telling  of  their 
money,  lean,  dry,  pale,  and  anxious."  .  .  .  See  Spenser's  VirgWs 
Gnat,  1.  273 : 

"  For  there  huge  Othos  sits  in  sacl  distresse, 
Fast  bound  with  serpents  that  him  oft  invades; 
Far  of  beholding  Ephialtes  tide, 
Which  once  assai'd  to  burne  this  world  so  wide." 


ARCADES 

20.  The  wise  Latona.    Latona  was  the  mother  of  Apollo  and 
Diana.     The  adjective  wise  may  be  by  way  of  discrimination,  since 
Latona  was  not  the  supreme  consort  of  Zeus.     It  may  also  be  a 
transferred  epithet  indicating  her  relation  to  the  Delphic  oracle. 

21.  The  towered  Cybele.     Wife  of  Saturn  and  mother  of  the 
gods.     Her  diadem  had  three  towers. 

30.   Divine  Alpheus.     A  river  of  Arcadia  which  ran  underground 
through  part  of  its  course.     When  the  nymph  Arethusa  fled  from 


Arcades  149 

the  hunter  Alpheus  to  Ortygia  in  Sicily,  he  was  transformed  into  a 
river  that  followed  her  under  the  sea  and  rose  again  in  Ortygia  to 
mingle  with  the  waters  of  a  fountain  named  after  her. 

63.  To  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony.  The  suggestion  for  this 
phrase  is  clearly  the  passage  in  the  tenth  book  of  Plato's  Republic, 
616  (Jowett's  translation)  :  "  Now  when  the  spirits  that  were  in  the 
meadow  had  tarried  seven  days,  on  the  eighth  day  they  were 
obliged  to  proceed  on  their  journey,  and  on  the  fourth  day  from 
that  time  they  came  to  a  place  where  they  looked  down  from 
above  upon  a  line  of  light,  like  a  column  extending  right  through 
the  whole  heaven  and  earth,  in  colour  not  unlike  the  rainbow,  only 
brighter  and  purer  ;  another  day's  journey  brought  them  to  the 
place,  and  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  light,  they  saw  reaching  from 
heaven  the  extremities  of  the  chains  of  it :  for  this  light  is  the  belt 
of  heaven,  and  holds  together  the  circle  of  the  universe,  like  the 
undergirders  of  a  trireme.  And  from  the  extremities  of  the  chains 
is  extended  the  spindle  of  Necessity,  on  which  all  the  revolutions 
turn.  The  shaft  and  hook  of  this  spindle  are  made  of  steel,  and 
the  whorl  is  made  partly  of  steel  and  also  partly  of  other  materials. 
Now  the  whorl  is  in  form  like  the  whorl  used  on  earth;  and  you 
are  to  suppose,  as  he  described,  that  there  is  one  large  hollow 
whorl  which  is  scooped  out,  and  into  this  is  fitted  another  lesser 
one,  and  another,  and  another,  and  four  others,  making  eight  in 
all,  like  boxes  which  fit  into  one  another  ;  their  edges  are  turned 
upwards,  and  all  together  form  one  continuous  whorl.  This  is 
pierced  by  the  spindle,  which  is  driven  home  through  the  centre  of 
the  eighth.  The  first  and  outermost  whorl  has  the  rim  broadest,  and 
the  seven  inner  whorls  narrow,  in  the  following  proportions :  —  the 
sixth  is  next  to  the  first  in  size,  the  fourth  next  to  the  sixth  ;  then 
comes  the  eighth  ;  the  seventh  is  fifth,  the  fifth  is  sixth,  the  third  is 
seventh,  last  and  eighth  comes  the  second.  The  largest  [or  fixed 
stars]  is  spangled,  and  the  seventh  [or  sun]  is  brightest  ;  the 
eighth  [or  moon]  colored  by  the  reflected  light  of  the  seventh  ;  the 
second  and  fifth  [Mercury  and  Saturn]  are  like  one  another,  and  of 


1 50  Notes 

a  yellower  colour  than  the  preceding  ;  the  third  [Venus]  has  the 
whitest  light ;  the  fourth  [Mars]  is  reddish  ;  the  sixth  [Jupiter]  is 
in  whiteness  second.  Now  the  whole  spindle  has  the  same  motion  ; 
but  as  the  whole  revolves  in  one  direction,  the  seven  inner  circles 
move  slowly  in  the  other,  and  of  these  the  swiftest  is  the  eighth; 
next  in  swiftness  are  the  seventh,  sixth,  and  fifth,  which  move 
together  ;  third  in  swiftness  appeared  to  them  to  move  in  reversed 
orbit  the  fourth  ;  the  third  appeared  fourth  and  the  second  fifth. 
The  spindle  turns  on  the  knees  of  Necessity  ;  and  on  the  upper 
surface  of  each  circle  is  a  siren,  who  goes  round  with  them,  hymning 
a  single  sound  and  note.  The  eight  together  form  one  harmony  ; 
and  round  about,  at  equal  intervals,  there  is  another  band,  three  in 
number,  each  sitting  upon  her  throne  :  these  are  the  Fates,  daugh- 
ters of  Necessity,  who  are  clothed  in  white  raiment  and  have  gar- 
lands upon  their  heads,  Lachesis  and  Clotho  and  Atropos,  who 
accompany  with  their  voices  the  harmony  of  the  sirens  —  Lachesis 
singing  of  the  past,  Clotho  of  the  present,  Atropos  of  the  future  ; 
Clotho  now  and  then  assisting  with  a  touch  of  her  right  hand  the 
motion  of  the  outer  circle  or  whorl  of  the  spindle,  and  Atropos  with 
her  left  hand  touching  and  guiding  the  inner  ones,  and  Lachesis 
laying  hold  of  either  in  turn,  first  with  one  hand  and  then  with  the 
other."  See  also  Ben  Jonson's  Entertainment  of  King  James  and 
Queen  Anne  at  Theobalds,  1.  15  : 

11  Daughters  of  Night  and  Necessity  attend: 
You  that  draw  out  the  chain  of  destiny, 
Upon  whose  threads,  both  lives  and  times  depend, 
And  all  the  periods  of  mortality; 
The  will  of  Jove  is,  that  you  straight  do  look 
The  change  and  fate  unto  this  house  decreed, 
And  spinning  from  your  adamantine  hook, 
Unto  the  Genius  of  the  place  it  read." 

97.  Ladon's.     Ladon  was  a  river  of  Arcadia. 

98.  Lycaeus  or  Cyllene.     Mountains  of  Arcadia.     See  Ben  Jon- 
son's  The  Penates,  "This  place  whereon  you  are  now  advanced  (by 


Comus  151 

the  mighty  power  of  poetry,  and  the  help  of  a  faith  that  can  remove 
mountains)  is  the  Arcadian  hill  Cyllene,  the  place  where  myself 
[Mercury]  was  both  begot  and  born,  and  of  which  I  am  frequently 
called  Cyllenius." 

loo.  Erymanth.  Erymanthus,  a  mountain  range  on  the  border 
of  Arcadia,  the  haunt  of  the  boar  killed  by  Hercules. 

102.   Maenalus.     A  mountain  of  Arcadia. 

1 06.  Syrinx.  A  nymph  pursued  by  Pan.  She  was  changed 
into  a  reed,  and  out  of  it  Pan  made  his  pipe,  famous  in  pastoral 
poetry. 


COMUS 

4.  In  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air.  See  Spenser's 
Amoretti,  Ixxii.  : 

"  Oft,  when  my  spirit  doth  spred  her  bolder  winges, 
In  mind  to  mount  up  to  the  purest  sky, 
It  down  is  weighd  with  thoght  of  earthly  things, 
And  clogd  with  burden  of  mortality." 

7.  Pestered.  From  the  Latin  through  the  French.  It  means 
burdened,  clogged.  In  and  pastor ium  (see  Century  Dictionary 
for  etymology),  a  clog  upon  a  pastured  horse. 

7.  Pinfold.  Variant  for  pindfold  or  pound/old.  The  word 
occurs  in  King  Lear  and  in  Piers  Plowman.  It  means  a  pound  for 
stray  cattle. 

13.  Golden  key.  See  Lycidas,  in,  for  another  description  of 
this  mark  of  virtuous  attainment. 

20.  High  and  nether  Jove.  Jupiter  and  Pluto.  The  distinction 
is  Homeric,  and  the  dividing  of  the  world  among  Neptune,  Jupiter, 
and  Pluto  after  the  overthrow  of  Saturn  was  a  "  stock  property  " 
in  literature.  Milton,  however,  had  more  than  a  conventional 
interest  in  it.  It  appealed  to  his  imagination  as  a  statesman  and 
as  a  moralist. 


152  Notes 

26.  Their  sapphire  crowns.  See  Isaiah  liv.  1 1,  "O  thou  afflicted, 
tossed  with  tempest,  and  not  comforted,  behold,  I  will  lay  thy 
stones  with  fair  colours,  and  lay  thy  foundations  with  sapphires." 

27.  And  wield  their  little  tridents.    An  excellent  example  of 
Milton's  dry  satire. 

29.  Blue-haired  deities.  Milton's  Mansus  has  "Oceani  glau- 
cos  profundit  gurgite  crines,"  1.  33;  but  the  usual  colour  given  by 
Ben  Jonson  to  the  hair  of  Oceanus  is  grey  or  "  mixed."  This  would 
support  the  notion  that  Milton  was  using  "  blue  "  in  its  old  vague 
sense  of  dark  and  that  he  made  the  bright  or  golden  hair  the  mark 
of  the  more  powerful  gods. 

31.  Mickle.  Old  form  of  much.  It  survives  in  Scotch.  See 
also  Spenser's  Muiopotmos  : 

.  .  .  "till  mickle  woe 
Thereof  arose,  and  manie  a  rufull  teare." 

33.  Old  and  haughty.  Wales.  See  Ben  Jonson's  For  the  Hon- 
our of  Wales. 

43.  And  listen  why.  See  Shakespeare,  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
iv.  14.  88 : 

"  Eros.    My  sword  is  drawn. 

Ant.  Then  let  it  do  at  once 

The  thing  why  thou  hast  drawn  it." 

48.  The  Tuscan  mariners  transformed.    Tyrrhenian  pirates 
intended  to  sell  Bacchus  as  a  slave.     The  god  changed  them  into 
dolphins,  the  masts  and  oars  into  snakes.     Compare  the  words 
Tuscan,  Etruscan,  Tyrrhenian. 

49.  As  the  winds  listed.     Listed  is  part  of  a  verb  formed  by 
vowel  change  from  lust,  pleasure. 

50.  Circe.     See  Odyssey,  x,  Chapman's  tr. 

58.  Comus.  Milton  invents  a  genealogy  and  outlines  a  charac- 
ter for  what  is  hardly  more  than  a  name  in  classic  mythology.  He 
seems,  however,  to  have  in  mind  the  passage  in  Ben  Jonson's  lines 
To  Sir  Robert  Wroth  : 


Comus  1 53 


"  Thus  Pan  and  Sylvan  having  had  their  rites, 
Comus  puts  in  for  new  delights." 

60.  Celtic  and  Iberian  fields.     France  and  Spain  are  meant. 

65.   Orient  liquor.     Orient  means  clear,  translucent. 

71.   Ounce  is  a  kind  of  lynx.     The  word  is  of  uncertain  origin. 

74.  Not  once  perceive.  Again  Milton  varies  from  the  Homeric 
story.  The  companions  of  Ulysses  were  conscious  of  their  dis- 
figurement. 

77.  In  a  sensual  sty.  See  Ben  Jonson's  Pleasure  Reconciled  to 
Virtue: 

"  Hercules.    What  rites  are  these  ?  breeds  earth  more  monsters  yet  ? 
(Help  virtue,)  these  are  sponges  and  not  men ; 

Whose  feast  the  Belly's  ?     Comus !  and  my  cup 
Brought  in  to  fill  the  drunken  orgies  up, 
And  here  abus'd  ;  that  was  the  crowned  reward 
Of  thirsty  heroes,  after  labour  hard  ! 
Burdens  and  shames  of  nature,  perish,  die  ! 
For  yet  you  never  lived,  but  in  the  sty. 

Can  this  be  pleasure,  to  extinguish  man, 
Or  so  quite  change  him  in  his  figure  ? 

These  monsters  plague  themselves  and  fitly  too, 
For  they  do  suffer  what  and  all  they  do." 

See  Spenser's  An  Hymne  of  Heavenly  Love: 

"  Then  rouze  thy  selfe,  O  Earth  !  out  of  thy  soyle, 
In  which  thou  wallowest  like  to  filthy  swyne, 
And  doest  thy  mynd  in  durty  pleasures  moyle."  .  .  . 

83.  Iris'  woof.    A  rainbow  weave. 

84.  A  swain.   The  musician,  Henry  Lawes,  who  played  the  part. 
87.  Well  knows  to  still  the  wild  winds  when  they  roar. 


1 54  Notes 


See  Ben  Jonson's  Forest:  Epistle  to  Elizabeth,  Countess  of  Rutland, 

1.74= 

"  I  have  already  used  some  happy  hours, 
To  her  remembrance ;  which  when  time  shall  bring 
To  curious  light,  to  notes  I  then  shall  sing, 
Will  prove  old  Orpheus'  act  no  tale  to  be : 
For  I  shall  move  stocks,  stones,  no  less  than  he." 

97.   Steep  Atlantic.     Steep  here  means  bright,  glittering. 

105.   Rosy  twine.     Means  rosy  strand. 

no.   Saws.     See  Old  English  sagu.    A  maxim  or  saying. 

1 1 6.  Morrice.  A  dance  brought  by  John  of  Gaunt  to  England. 
Called  also  Morisco. 

129.    Cotytto.     Thracian  goddess  of  debauchery. 

132.    Spets.     Variant  of  spits. 

135.    Hecat*.     Presiding  genius  of  magic  and  witchcraft. 

151.  Trains.  See  Middle  English  traynen,  to  entice.  See 
Spenser's  Virgins  Gnat,  1.  241 :  "  Of  trecherie  or  traines  nought 
tooke  he  keep." 

154.  Spongy  air.  Note  the  use  of  sponges  in  the  passage 
quoted  from  Ben  Jonson,  77,  above. 

175.  Granges.     Barns  for  corn,  granaries. 

176.  Praise  the  bounteous  Pan.     See  the  mask  of  Ben  Jon- 
son's  called  Pan's  Anniversary.     The  whole  is  a  point  of  departure 
for  this  first  speech  of  the  Lady,  but  the  second  Hymn  affords  par- 
ticular occasion  for  thank  the  gods  amiss.     It  is  : 

"  Pan  is  our  All,  by  him  we  breathe,  we  live, 
We  move,  we  are ;  'tis  he  our  lambs  doth  rear, 
Our  flocks  doth  bless,  and  from  the  store  doth  give 
The  warm  and  finer  fleeces  that  we  wear. 
He  keeps  away  all  heats  and  colds, 
Drives  all  diseases  from  our  folds ; 
Makes  everywhere  the  spring  to  dwell, 
The  ewes  to  feed,  their  udders  swell ; 
But  if  he  frown,  the  sheep,  alas ! 
The  shepherds  wither,  and  the  grass." 


Comus  155 

207.   Calling  shapes.     See  Fletcher,  Faithful  Shepherdess^  i.  z. 

117: 

"  Or  voices  calling  me  in  dead  of  night 
To  make  me  follow." 

See  also  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  z, 
Subs.  2:  "In  the  deserts  of  Lop  in  Asia,  such  illusions  of  walking 
spirits  are  often  perceived  .  .  .  these  devils  will  call  him  by  his 
name,  and  counterfeit  voices  of  his  companions  to  seduce  him." 

215.  Chastity.  Compare  with  Ben  Jonson's  "  Untouched  Vir- 
ginity "  in  The  Barriers. 

221.  Was  I  deceived?  These  questions  and  answers  were  a 
feature  of  conventional  ballad  and  pastoral  poetry.  See  the  later 
use  made  of  this  device  by  Coleridge  in  Christabel. 

232.   Meander.    A  winding  river  of  Asia  Minor. 

237.  Narcissus.  The  love  of  Echo.  He  was  changed  into  a 
flower.  She  pined  away  until  nothing  was  left  but  her  voice. 

245.  Breathe  such  divine  enchanting.  Note  the  difference 
between  Milton's  conception  of  Comus  as  having  still  a  soul  of 
good  in  a  thing  evil  and  all  similar  presentations  by  Ben  Jonson 
and  other  mask  writers.  Only  Shakespeare  is  Milton's  master 
here. 

253.    The  Sirens  three.    This  episode  is  invented  by  Milton. 

257.  Scylla.  A  sea-monster  in  Greek  mythology  represented 
as  dwelling  in  the  rock  Scylla,  in  the  Strait  of  Messina. 

259.   Charybdis.     See  Virgil's  ALneid,  iii.  551-560. 

262.  But  such  a  sacred  and  home-felt  delight.  This  is  most 
beautiful  poetry,  but  the  student  should  consider  whether  it  is 
suited  to  the  speaker  or  the  character  of  a  mask.  See  Ben 
Jonson's  The  Barriers,  1.  68 : 

"  A  settled  quiet,  freedom  never  checked." 

275.  The  courteous  Echo.  See  Ben  Jonson's  Paris  Anni- 
versary, Hymn  iii : 

"  If  yet,  if  yet, 
Pan's  orgies  you  will  further  fit, 


156  Notes 

See  where  the  silver-footed  fays  do  sit, 
The  nymphs  of  wood  and  water ; 
Each  tree's  and  fountain's  daughter ! 

Echo  the  truest  oracle  on  ground, 
Though  nothing  butta  sound. 
Echo.  Though  nothing  but  a  sound. 

And  often  heard,  though  never  seen." 

290.  Hope.     Goddess  of  youth. 

293.  Swinked.  See  Old  English,  sivincan,  to  toil.  See 
Spenser's  Prosopopoia,  1.  161 : 

41  Free  men  some  beggers  call,  but  they  be  free, 
And  they  which  call  them  so  more  beggers  bee ; 
For  they  doo  swinke  and  sweate  to  feed  the  other." 

297.  Their  port  was  more  than  human.  See  Spenser's 
Prothalamion,  1.  1 68: 

"  Above  the  rest  were  goodly  to  bee  scene 
Two  gentle  Knights  of  lovely  face  and  feature, 
Beseeming  well  the  bower  of  anie  Queene, 
With  gifts  of  wit,  and  ornaments  of  nature, 
Fit  for  so  goodly  stature, 

That  like  the  twins  of  Jove  they  seem'd  in  sight, 
Which  decke  the  Bauldricke  of  the  Heavens  bright." 

299.  Element.  Here  used  in  the  most  general  sense  compatible 
with  the  idea  of  the  occult  or  of  magic. 

313.   Bosky.     See  busky,  bushy,  boscaye. 

315.  Attendance.  Attendants.  Compare  with  visitor  and 
visitant. 

317.   Low-roosted.     Low-nesting  is  the  real  meaning. 

322.  Courtesy.  Contrast  the  undoubted  expression  of  Milton's 
opinions  on  this  subject  with  Ben  Jonson's  on  Chivalry,  in  Prince 
Henry's  Barriers, : 


Comus  157 


"'Tis  CHIVALRY 

Possessed  with  sleep,  dead  as  a  lethargy : 
If  any  charm  will  wake  her,  'tis  the  name 
Of  our  Meliadus,  I'll  use  his  fame. 
Lady,  Meliadus,  lord  of  the  isles, 
Princely  Meliadus,  and  whom  fate  now  styles 
The  fair  Meliadus,  hath  hung  his  shield 
Upon  his  tent,  and  here  doth  keep  the  field, 
According  to  his  bold  and  princely  word ; 
And  wants  employment  for  his  pike  and  sword. 

"  Break,  you  rusty  doors, 

That  have  so  long  been  shut,  and  from  the  shores 
Of  all  the  world  come  knighthood,  like  a  flood 
Upon  these  lists,  to  make  the  field  here  good, 
And  your  own  honours,  that  are  now  called  forth 
Against  the  wish  of  men  to  prove  your  worth !  " 

341.  Star  of  Arcady.  Allusion  is  here  made  to  the  constella- 
tion of  the  Great  Bear  by  which  Greek  sailors  steered.  Arcadia 
was  the  home  of  Callisto  and  her  son  Areas,  who  were  transformed 
into  the  Great  and  Little  Bear. 

344.  Wattled  cotes.  Cot  of  twigs,  from  Old  English  watel,  a 
hurdle  and  cote,  a  variant  of  cot. 

391.  Or  maple  dish.  See  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt. 
2,  Sec.  3,  Mem.  3 :  "A  poor  man  drinks  in  a  wooden  dish,  and 
eats  his  meat  in  wooden  spoons,  wooden  platters,  earthen  vessels, 
and  such  homely  stuff;  the  other  in  gold,  silver,  and  precious 
stones;  but  with  what  success  ?  .  .  .  fear  of  poison  in  the  one, 
security  in  the  other." 

393.  Hesperian  tree.  Allusion  to  one  of  the  labours  of  Hercules 
in  killing  the  dragon  set  to  watch  the  golden  apples  in  the  garden 
of  the  Hesperides. 

413.  Squint    suspicion.      See    Ben    Jonson's    The    Mask  of 

Queens,  1.  53 : 

"  First  then  advance 
My  drowsy  servant,  stupid  Ignorance, 


158  Notes 


Known  by  thy  scaly  vesture  ;  and  bring  on 
Thy  fearful  sister,  wild  Suspicion, 
Whose  eyes  do  never  sleep." 

See  also  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene,  iii.  12.  15: 

"  His  rolling  eies  did  never  rest  in  place." 

434.  Blue  meagre  hag.  See  Ben  Jonson's  The  Masque  of  Black- 
ness, "  Since  death  herself  (herself  being  pale  and  blue)." 

463.  But  when  lust.  This  and  the  remainder  of  the  speech 
are  a  poetic  paraphrase  of  the  analysis  made  by  Burton,  in  The 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  of  sensual  degradation  and  the  resulting 
melancholy. 

476.  How  charming  is  divine  Philosophy  ! 

Not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose. 
The  popular  attitude  toward  philosophy  is  well  enough  presented 
in  the  satire  of  Ben  Jonson's  The  Fortunate  Isles,  where  Jophiel,  an 
airy  spirit,  and,  according  to  the  Magi,  the  intelligence  of  Jupiter's 
sphere,  discourses  with  Merefool  after  the  following  fashion  : 


Where  would  you  wish  to  be  now,  or  what  to  see, 
Without  the  Fortunate  Purse  to  bear  your  charges, 
Or  Wishing  Hat  ?   I  will  but  touch  your  temples, 
The  corners  of  your  eyes,  and  tinct  the  tip, 
The  very  tip  o'  your  nose,  with  this  colly  rium, 
And  you  shall  see  in  the  air  all  the  ideas, 
Spirits,  and  atoms,  flies  that  buz  about 
This  way  and  that  way,  and  are  rather  admirable, 
Than  any  way  intelligible. 
Mere.    O,  come,  tinct  me. 


But  shall  I  only  see  ? 
Joph.    See,  and  command. 


Mere.    Let  me  see  Pythagoras. 
Joph.    Good. 
Mere.    Or  Plato. 


Comus  159 

Joph.    Plato  is  framing  some  ideas 

Are  now  bespoken  at  a  groat  a  dozen, 
Three  gross  at  least :  and  for  Pythagoras, 
He  has  rashly  run  himself  on  an  employment 
Of  keeping  asses  from  a  field  of  beans, 
And  cannot  be  stav'd  off"; 

or  again  in  The  Metamorphosed  Gipsies,  of  the  same  author,  Jackman 
says:  "  If  we  here  be  a  little  obscure,  'tis  our  pleasure;  for  rather 
than  we  will  offer  to  be  our  own  interpreters,  we  are  resolved  not  to 
be  understood;  yet  if  any  man  doubt  of  the  significancy  of  the  lan- 
guage, we  refer  him  to  the  third  volume  of  Reports,  set  forth  by  the 
learned  in  the  laws  of  canting,  and  published  in  the  gipsy  tongue." 

See  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  4 :  "Or 
let  him  that  is  melancholy  peruse  subtle  Scotus"1  and  Sauretf  Meta- 
physicks,  or  School  Divinity,  Occam,  Thomas,  Entisberus,  Durand, 
etc.  ...  If  such  voluntary  tasks,  pleasures  and  delight,  or  crabbed- 
ness  of  these  studies  will  not  yet  divert  their  idle  thoughts,  and 
alienate  their  imaginations,  they  must  be  compelled  .  .  ." 

494.  Thyrsis.  Theocritus  makes  Thyrsis  a  herdman,  Virgil 
makes  him  a  shepherd. 

502.  Such  a  trivial  toy.  This  now  unusual  use  of  the  word  toy 
is  found  in  a  similar  connection  of  ideas  in  Burton.  See  Anatomy 
of  Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  3,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  4:  "He  may  thus  con- 
tinue peradventure  many  years  by  reason  of  a  strong  temperature, 
or  some  mixture  of  business  which  may  divert  his  cogitations  ;  but 
at  the  last,  l<zsa  imaginatio,  his  phantasy  is  crazed,  and  now  habit- 
uated to  such  toys,  cannot  but  work  still  like  a  fate  ;  the  scene  alters 
upon  a  sudden,  Fear  and  Sorrow  supplant  those  pleasing  thoughts, 
suspicion,  discontent,  and  perpetual  anxiety  succeed  in  their  places  ; 
so  by  little  and  little,  by  that  shoeing  born  of  idleness  and  volun- 
tary solitariness,  Melancholy,  this  feral  fiend  is  drawn  on  .  .  .it  was 
not  so  delicious  at  first,  as  now  it  is  bitter  and  harsh  .  .  ."  Also 
he  cites  from  Lucian,  "  Contemn  the  world  and  count  that  is  in  it 
vanity  and  toys."  From  Calenus,  .  .  .  "amidst  thy  serious  studies 


160  Notes 

and  business,  use  jests  and  conceits,  plays  and  toys."  .  .  .    See  also 
Spenser's  The  Teares  of  the  Muses  (Terpsichore),  1.  325 : 

"  All  places  they  doo  with  their  toyes  possesse, 
And  raigne  in  liking  of  the  multitude." 

513.  1*11  tell  ye.  'Tis  not  vain  or  fabulous.  Milton  evidently 
had  in  mind  Burton's  discussion  of  the  nature  of  devils,  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  2,  Part  of  this  is  as  fol- 
lows :  ..."  that  they  can  represent  castles  in  the  air,  palaces, 
armies,  spectrums,  prodigies,  and  such  strange  objects  to  mortal 
men's  eyes,  cause  smells,  savours,  etc.,  deceive  all  the  senses; 
most  writers  of  this  subject  credibly  believe,  and  that  they  can  fore- 
tell future  events  and  do  many  strange  miracles.  Juno's  image 
spake  to  Camillus,  and  Fortunes  statue  to  the  Roman  matrons, 
with  many  such,  Zanchius,  Bodine,  Spondanus,  and  others  are  of 
opinion  that  they  cause  a  true  Metamorphosis,  as  Nebuchadnezzar 
was  really  translated  into  a  beast,  Lot's  wife  into  a  pillar  of  salt, 
Ulysses'  companions  into  hogs  and  dogs  by  Circe*s  charms.  .  .  . 
Many  will  not  believe  they  can  be  seen,  and  if  any  man  shall  say, 
swear,  and  stiffly  maintain,  though  he  be  discreet  and  wise,  judicious 
and  learned,  that  he  hath  seen  them,  they  account  him  a  timorous 
fool,  a  melancholy  dizzard,  a  weak  fellow,  a  dreamer,  a  sick  or  a 
mad  man,  they  contemn  him,  laugh  him  to  scorn,  and  yet  Marcus 
of  his  credit  told  Psellus  that  he  had  often  seen  them.  .  .  .  Many 
deny  it,  saith  Lavater  .  .  .  because  they  never  saw  them  themselves ; 
but  as  he  reports  at  large  all  over  his  book  .  .  .  they  are  often  seen 
and  heard  and  familiarly  converse  with  men,  as  Lod.  Vives  assureth 
us,  innumerable  records,  histories,  and  testimonies  evince  in  all 
ages,  times,  places,  and  all  travellers  besides  .  .  .  have  infinite  vari- 
ety of  such  examples  of  apparitions  of  spirits,  for  him  to  read  that 
farther  doubts,  to  his  ample  satisfaction." 

517.  Chimeras.  See  Burton,  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3, 
Sec.  4,  Mem.  2,  Subs.  6  ..."  they  smell  brimstone,  talk  familiarly 
with  Devils,  hear  and  see  Chimeras,  prodigious  and  uncouth  shapes, 


Comus  1 6 1 

Bears,  Owls,  Anticks,  black  dogs,  fiends,  hideous  outcries,  fearful 
noises,  shrieks,  lamentable  complaints."  .  .  . 

520.  Navel.  This  is  the  diminutive  of  nave.  The  original 
meaning  of  nave  is  associated  with  the  idea  of  bursting,  and  the 
immediate  application  is  to  the  central  or  body  part  of  an  instru- 
ment or  building.  The  nave  of  a  wheel,  of  a  church. 

526.  Murmurs.  This  is  an  imitative  word  used,  doubtless,  allu- 
sively, to  suggest  spells  and  charms  employed  by  a  magician. 

542.   Knot-grass.     Possibly  the  florin  grass. 

546.  Wrapt  in  a  pleasing  fit  of  melancholy.  See  Burton's 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  I,  Sec.  3,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  4.  Ups  and 
Downs  of  Melancholy :  "  Generally  thus  much  we  may  conclude 
of  melancholy;  that  it  is  most  pleasant  at  first,  I  say,  mentis  gratis- 
simus  error,  a  most  delightsome  humour,  to  be  alone,  dwell  alone, 
walk  alone,  meditate,  lie  in  bed  whole  days,  dreaming  awake  as  it 
were,  and  frame  a  thousand  fantastical  imaginations  unto  them- 
selves. They  are  never  better  pleased  than  when  they  are  so  doing, 
they  are  in  paradise  for  the  time,  and  cannot  well  endure  to  be 
interrupt;  .  .  .  'tis  so  pleasant,  he  cannot  refrain."  See  also 
John  Fletcher,  The  Oxford  Book  of  English  Verse,^.  240: 

"  Hence,  all  you  vain  delights, 
As  short  as  are  the  nights 
Wherein  you  spend  your  folly ! 
There's  naught  in  this  life  sweet, 
If  men  were  wise  to  see't, 

But  only  melancholy  — 

O  sweetest  melancholy ! 
Welcome,  folded  armes  and  fixed  eyes, 
A  sight  that  piercing  mortifies ; 
A  look  that's  fa'sten'd  to  the  ground, 
A  tongue  chain'd  up  without  a  sound! 

"  Fountain-heads  and  pathless  groves; 
Places  which  pale  passion  loves  1 
Moonlight  walks,  when  all  the  fowls 

MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS — n 


1 62  Notes 

Are  warmly  housed,  save  bats  and  owls ! 

A  midnight  bell,  a  parting  groan  — 

These  are  the  sounds  we  feed  upon : 

Then  stretch  our  bones  in  a  still  gloomy  valley, 

Nothing's  so  dainty  sweet  as  lovely  melancholy." 

552.  Till  an  unusual  stop.  See  1.  145.  Is  this  reference  a 
good  dramatic  device? 

589.  Virtue  may  be  assailed.  See  the  songs  in  Ben  Jonson's 
Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue  : 

"  These,  these  are  hours  by  Virtue  spared, 
Herself,  she  being  her  own  reward. 
But  she  will  have  you  know, 

That  though 
Her  sports  be  soft,  her  life  is  hard. 

"  You  must  return  unto  the  Hill, 
And  there  advance 
With  labour,  and  inhabit  still 
That  height  and  crown, 
From  whence  you  ever  may  look  down 
Upon  triumphed  chance. 

"  She,  she  it  is  in  darkness  shines, 
'Tis  she  that  still  herself  refines, 
By  her  own  light  to  every  eye ; 
More  seen,  more  known,  when  Vice  stands  by; 
And  though  a  stranger  here  on  earth, 
In  heaven  she  hath  her  right  of  birth." 

604.  Sooty  flag  of  Acheron.  This  is  one  of  Milton's  liberties 
with  words.  The  idea  to  be  conveyed  is  that  of  a  black  flag. 
Acheron  was  a  river,  and  the  under-world,  thus  typified,  was  logi- 
cally wet,  not  sooty,  as  would  have  been  natural  had  the  reference 
been  to  the  fires  of  Hell.  But  pictures  of  pirates,  associations  with 
black  as  the  colour  of  doom,  combine  to  make  this  one  of  the  most 
successful  of  Milton's  verbal  adventures. 


Comus  163 

605.   Harpies.     Virgil's  JEneid,  iii.  212,  213. 

605.  Hydras.  The  nine-headed  dragon  of  Lake  Lerna.  The 
destruction  of  the  Hydra  was  one  of  the  twelve  labours  of  Hercules. 

614.  Unthread  thy  joints.  See  Shakespeare's  The  Tempest,  iii. 
I.  26.  "I  had  rather  crack  my  sinews,  break  my  back."  See  also 
Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy.  Pt.  I,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  3, 
on  the  effects  of  spells  and  curses. 

619.  Certain  shepherd  lad.  The  effort  of  some  editors  to  find 
here  a  reference  to  Milton's  friend,  Charles  Diodati,  illustrates  the 
excess  of  zeal  likely  to  overtake  commentators.  There  is  not  only 
no  need  of  specific  reference  in  this  passage,  but  the  character  of 
the  alleged  reference  does  not  suit  with  either  Milton's  literary 
methods  or  Charles  Diodati's  relations  with  him. 

627.  Simples.  Medicinal  herbs  or  medicines  obtained  from  an 
herb,  in  view  of  its  supposed  possession  of  some  particular  virtue. 
The  term  is  really  an  abbreviation  for  simple  herbs,  simple  sub- 
stances. See  the  form  whites,  yellows,  etc. 

635.  Clouted  shoon.     Patched  shoes.     Clouted  is  a  form  of  Old 
English  clut,  a  rag.     See  Hamlet,  iv.  5.  23. : 

"  How  should  I  your  true  love  know 

From  another  one  ? 
By  his  cockle  hat  and  staff, 

And  his  sandal  shoon." 

636.  Moly.      See   Odyssey,  x.  305.    The  plant  that  protected 
Ulysses  from  the  magic  of  Circe.    See  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly, Pt.  2,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  4,  "Bernardus  Penottus  prefers 
his  Herba  solis,  or  Dutch  sindaw,  before  all  the  rest  in  this  disease, 
and  will  admit  of  no  herb  upon  the  earth  to  be  compared  to  it.     It 
excels  Homer's  Moly."  .  .  . 

638.  Hsemony.     See  Spenser's  Astrophel,  1.  I : 

"  A  gentle  shepheard  borne  in  Arcady, 
Of  gentlest  race  that  ever  shepheard  bore, 
About  the  grassie  bancks  of  Haemony 
Did  keepe  his  sheep,  his  litle  stock  and  store." 


164  Notes 

The  spirit  of  Milton's  passage  seems  to  be  taken  from  Burton  in 
his  defense  of  native  against  exotic  simples,  Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly, Pt.  2,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  2 :  "  For  as  there  be  divers  dis- 
tinct infirmities,  continually  vexing  us,  ...  so  there  be  several 
remedies,  as  he  saith,yfrr  each  disease  a  medicine,  for  every  humotir, 
and,  as  some  hold,  every  clime,  every  country,  and  more  than  that, 
every  private  place,  hath  his  proper  remedies  growing  in  it,  peculiar 
almost  to  the  domineering  and  most  frequent  maladies  of  it.  .  .  . 
I  know  that  many  are  of  opinion  our  Northern  simples  are  weak, 
imperfect,  not  so  well  concocted,  of  such  force,  as  those  in  the 
Southern  parts,  not  so  fit  to  be  used  in  physick,  and  will  therefore 
fetch  their  drugs  afar  off  !  ...  Many  times  they  are  over  curious 
in  this  kind,  whom,  Fuchsius  taxeth,  .  .  .  thet  they  think  they  do 
nothing  except  they  rake  all  over  India,  Arabia,  Ethiopia,  for 
remedies,  and  fetch  their  Physick  from  the  three  quarters  of  the 
world,  and  from  beyond  the  Garasnantes.  Many  an  old  wife  or 
country  woman  doth  often  more  good  with  a  few  known  and  common 
garden  herbs  than  our  bombast  Physicians  with  all  their  prodigious, 
sumptuous, far-fetched,  rare,  conjectural  medicines" 

The  effect  of  Hamony  was  probably  suggested  to  Milton  by 
the  treatment  of  herbs,  as  a  cure  for  Despair,  found  in  Burton, 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  2,  Subs.  6  :  "Of 
herbs,  he  reckons  as  Pennyroyal,  Rue,  Mint,  Angelica,  Piony: 
...  St.  John's  wort  .  .  .  which  by  a  divine  virtue  drives  away 
Devils,  ...  all  which  rightly  used  by  their  suffitus  expel  Devils 
themselves,  and  all  devilish  illusions.  .  .  .  The  ancients  used 
therefore  to  plant  it  (Betony)  in  churchyards,  because  it  was  held 
to  be  an  holy  herb,  and  good  against  fearful  visions,  did  secure 
such  places  it  grew  in,  and  sanctified  those  persons  that  carried  it 
about  them. 

646.  Lime-twigs.  Literally  twigs  daubed  with  bird  lime. 
Hence  snares.  See  Spenser's  Muiopotmos,  1.  428 : 

"  Himselfe  he  tide,  and  wrapt  his  winges  twaine 
In  lymie  snares  the  subtill  loupes  among." 


Comus  165 


653.  But  seize  his  wand.    See  Ben  Jonson's  The  Fortunate 

Isles: 

..."  you  shall  be 
Principal  secretary  to  the  stars : 
Know  all  the  signatures  and  combinations, 
The  divine  rods  and  consecrated  roots : 
What  not  ?  " 

655.  Sons  of  Vulcan.  Virgil's  ALneid,  viii.  252.  The  giant 
Cacus,  son  of  Vulcan,  is  alluded  to. 

660.  Your  nerves  are  all  chained  up  in  alabaster.  See 
Spenser's  An  Hymne  In  Honour  of  Love,  1.  138: 

"  And  otherwhyles,  their  dying  to  delay, 
Thou  doest  emmarble  the  proud  hart  of  her 
Whose  love  before  their  life  they  doe  prefer." 

672.   Julep.     Means  here  a  sweet  drink,  otherwise  rose  water. 

675.  Nepenthes.  Odyssey,  iv.  221.  See  Burton's  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  6,  Subs.  2:  "A  gentle  speech  is 
the  true  cure  of  a  wounded  soul,  as  Plutarch  contends  out  of 
,/Eschylus  and  Euripides  ...  a  charm,  .  .  .  that  true  Nepenthes 
of  Homer,  which  was  no  Indian  plant  or  feigned  medicine,  which 
Polydamna,  Thorfs  wife,  sent  Helen  for  a  token,  as  Macrobius  7, 
.  .  .  and  others  suppose,  but  opportunely  of  speech :  for  Heleris 
bowl,  Media's  unction,  Venus'  girdle,  Circe's  cup,  cannot  so  en- 
chant, so  forcibly  move  or  alter,  as  it  doth.  ...  Pt.  2,  Sec.  2,  Mem. 
6,  Subs.  4:  Pleasant  discourse,  jests,  conceits,  merry  tales,  as 
Petronius  .  .  .  and  many  good  Authors  plead,  are  that  sole  Nepen- 
thes of  Homer,  Helenas  bowl,  Venus'1  girdle,  so  renowned  of  old  to 
expel  grief  and  care,  to  cause  mirth  and  gladness  of  heart,  if  they 
be  rightly  understood,  or  reasonably  applied.  Pt.  2,  Sec.  4,  Mem. 
I,  Subs.  3:  Pliny  much  magnifies  this  plant  (Bugloss).  It  may  be 
diversely  used  ...  an  herb  indeed  of  such  sovereignty  that  as  Dio- 
dorus,  Plutarch  .  .  .  suppose  it  was  that  famous  Nepenthes  of  Homer, 
which  Polydamna,  Thon's  wife  (then  king  of  Thebes  in  JEgypt) 
sent  Helen  for  a  token,  of  such  rare  virtue,  that  if  taken  steept  in 


1 66  Notes 

wine,  if  wife  and  children,  father  and  mother,  brother  and  sister, 
and  all  thy  dearest  friends,  should  die  before  thy  face,  thou  couldst 
not  grieve  or  shed  a  tear  for  them.  ...  Pt.  2,  Sec.  5,  Mem.  i, 
Subs.  5  :  Amongst  this  number  of  Cordials  and  Alteratives  I  do  not 
find  a  more  present  remedy  than  a  cup  of  wine  or  strong  drink,  if 
it  be  soberly  and  opportunely  used.  .  .  .  It  glads  the  heart  of  man, 
Helen's  bowl,  the  sole  Nectar  of  the  Gods,  or  that  true  Nepenthes 
in  Homer,  which  puts  away  care  and  grief,  as  Orebasius  and  some 
others  will,  was  naught  else  but  a  cup  of  good  wine."  .  .  . 

707.  Budge  doctors  of  the  Stoic  fur.  Halliwell  has,  "  budge, 
lambskin  with  the  wool  dressed  outwards,  often  worn  on  the  edges 
of  capes,  as  gowns  of  bachelors  of  arts  are  still  made."  See  bag 
and  budget. 

707.  Stoic.    See  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Symptoms  of 
Love,  Pt.  3,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  3,  Subs.  I:    "Your  most  grim  Stoicks, 
and  severe  Philosophers  will  melt  away  with  this  passion,  and  if 
Athenaeus  bely  them  not,  Aristippus,  Apollodorus,  etc.,  have  made 
love-songs  and  commentaries  of  their  Mistress'  praises,  Orators 
wrote  Epistles,  Princes  given  Titles,  Honours,  what  not  ?" 

708.  Cynic  tub.     Allusion  to  Diogenes. 

719.  Hutched.  Means  put  in  a  box  or  chest.  The  origin  of  the 
word  is  uncertain. 

721.   Pulse.     See  Latin  puls,  beans,  pease. 

739.  Beauty  is  Nature's  coin.  See  Shakespeare's  Sonnets, 
i.  vi.  See  also  Ben  Jonson,  The  Barriers. 

745.  Brag.  Probably  of  Celtic  ,  origin,  meaning  to  boast. 
Spenser  uses  an  adjective  bragy. 

750.  Sorry.  Old  English,  sarig,  wounded,  afflicted,  miserable. 
See  stony,  bony,  gory. 

760.   Bolt.     To  sift  through  cloth;    hence  to  qiiibble. 

779.  Crams.  Middle  English,  crammen.  Old  English,  cram- 
mian,iQ  stuff.  See  Spenser's  Visions  of  the  World"1*  Vanitie,  iii.  3: 

"  A  mightie  Crocodile, 
That,  cram'd  with  guiltles  blood  and  greedie  prey." 


Comus  167 

787.  Serious  doctrine  of  Virginity.  See,  for  the  opposite,  the 
verses  of  Ben  Jonson  in  The  Barriers. 

800.    She  fables  not.     See  Ben  Jonson's  Love  Restored: 

11 1  have  my  spirits  again,  and  feel  my  limbs. 
Away  with  this  cold  cloud  that  dims 
My  light!     Lie  there,  my  furs,  and  charms."  .  .  . 

803.  Wrath  of  Jove.     Alludes  to  the  overthrow  of  the  Titans. 

804.  Erebus.     See  Paradise  Lost,  ii.  883.    See  Spenser's  Virgil 's 
Gnat,  1.  213 : 

"  By  this  the  Night  forth  from  the  darksome  bowre 
Of  Herebus  her  teemed  steedes  gan  call." 

809.  'Tis  but  the  lees.  This  is  a  poetic  paraphrase  of  Burton 
in  his  treatment  of  melancholy  arising  from  humours  and  spirits  of 
the  body. 

8 1 6.  Rod  reversed.     See  Ovid,  Met.  xiv.  300.     See  Spenser's 
The  Ruines  of  Rome,  xxii :  • 

"  So,  when  the  compast  course  of  the  universe 
In  sixe  and  thirtie  thousand  yeares  is  ronne, 
The  bands  of  th'  elements  shall  backe  reverse 
To  their  first  discord,  and  be  quite  undonne." 

817.  Backward  mutters.     See  Shakespeare's  Much  Ado,  iii.  I. 

59: 

"  I  never  yet  saw  man, 

How  wise,  how  noble,  young,  how  rarely  featured, 
But  she  would  spell  him  backward." 

See  Spenser's  Prosopopoia,  1.  832 : 

"  Then  he  would  scoffe  at  learning,  and  eke  scorne 
The  Sectaries  thereof,  as  people  base 
And  simple  men,  which  never  came  in  place 
Of  worlds  affaires,  but,  in  darke  corners  mewd, 
Muttred  of  matters  as  their  bookes  them  shewd." 

822.  Melibceus.  Conventional  name  for  a  shepherd.  The 
literary  allusion  here  is  to  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  author  of  the 


1 68  Notes 

History  of  the  Britons,  from  which  the  story  of  Sabre  or  Sabrina  is 
taken. 
826.  Sabrina  is  her  name.    See  Spenser's  Daphnciida,  1.  99 : 

"  Whilome  I  usde  (as  thou  right  well  doest  know) 
My  little  flocke  on  westerne  downes  to  keepe 
Not  far  from  whence  Sabrinoes  streame  doth  flow." 

835.  Nereus.  A  sea  god,  son  of  Pontus  and  Gsea,  husband  of 
Doris,  and  father  of  the  fifty  Nereids. 

838.   Asphodil.     One  of  the  flowers  of  the  Elysian  fields. 

845.  Urchin  blasts.  Elvish  or  impish  blights.  See  King  Lear, 
i.  4.  321 :  "Blasts  and  fogs  upon  thee."  Job  iv.  9:  "By  the  blast 
of  God  they  perish."  Lyly,  Euphues  :  ..."  Some  blossoms,  some 
blasts." 

868.  Great  Oceanus.     In  ancient  geography,  a  swift  and  un- 
bounded stream.    The  outer  sea  or  Atlantic  Ocean.    The  husband 
ofTethys. 

869.  Neptune.      A    sea   god.      See    Ben    Jonson's    Neptune's 
Triumph  : 

"  The  mighty  Neptune,  mighty  in  his  styles, 
And  large  command  of  waters  and  of  isles ; 
Not  as  the  '  lord  and  sovereign  of  the  seas,' 
But '  chief  in  the  art  of  riding,'  late  did  please, 
To  send  his  Albion  forth,  the  most  his  own, 
Upon  discovery  to  themselves  best  known, 
Through  Celtiberia ;  and,  to  assist  his  course, 
Gave  him  his  powerful  Manager  of  Horse, 
With  divine  Proteus,  father  of  disguise, 
To  wait  upon  them  with  his  counsels  wise, 
In  all  extremes." 

872.  Carpathian  wizard.     See  Virgil's   Georgics,  iv.     Proteus 
is  alluded  to.     He  was  a  sea  god,  the  son  of  Oceanus  and  Tethys, 
and  had  the  power  of  assuming  different  shapes.     He  was  also  a 
sea  shepherd,  with  sea  calves  for  his  flock. 

873.  Triton.     Son  of  Neptune,  or  Poseidon,  and  Amphitrite,  or 


Comus  169 


Celseno.     He  had   a  shell  trumpet  which   he  blew  to  quiet  the 
waves  and  he  rode  the  sea  horses. 

874.  Soothsaying  Glaucus.     A  fisherman    of  Boeotia,  trans- 
formed into  a  sea  god  with  prophetic  powers. 

875.  Leucothea's    lovely  hands.     Ino,    the    white   goddess, 
daughter  of  Cadmus,  mother  of  the  sea  god,  Palaemon,  god  of  ports 
and  harbours.     See  Odyssey,  v.  461-462. 

877.  Thetis.    Daughter  of  Nereus,  mother  of  Achilles.     Homer 
makes  her  "  silver-footed." 

878.  Sirens  sweet.     Three  sea  nymphs  whose  home  was  an 
island  near  Cape  Pelorus  in  Sicily.     They  lured  sailors  ashore  by 
their  songs   and   then   killed   them.    The  three  are  Parthenope, 
Ligeia,  and  Leucothea. 

894.  Turkis.  Turquoise.  The  real  meaning  of  the  word  is 
simply  Turkish. 

921.  Amphitrite's  bower.     Chamber  of  Amphitrite,  wife  of 
Neptune. 

922.  Daughter  of  Locrine.     Sabrina's  father,  son  of  Brutus,  the 
second  founder  of  Britain.     His  wife  was  Gwendolen  of  Cornwall. 
Sabrina's  mother  was  Estrildis,  a  German  princess. 

923.  Anchises'  line.     Anchises  was  father  of  ./Eneas;    Brutus 
was  descended  from  Anchises. 

964.  Dryades.  Wood  nymphs  whose  lives  were  bound  up  with 
those  of  their  trees. 

991.  Nard  and  cassia.  Skeat  says,  "Nard,  an  unguent  from  an 
aromatic  plant  .  .  .  the  name  is  Aryan,  from  Sanskrit  nal,  to  smell." 
Cassia  is  a  species  of  laurel. 

999.  Adonis.  The  beloved  of  Venus.  He  died  gored  by  a  wild 
boar. 

1002.  Assyrian  queen.  Astarte.  The  Phoenician  moon  god- 
dess. See  Paradise  Lost,  i.  438. 

1004.  Cupid.  The  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  is  given  in  The 
Golden  Ass  of  Apuleius.  For  versions  of  the  episode,  see  Lafon- 
taine,  Moliere,  William  Morris,  Walter  Pater.  The  story  is  briefly 


170  Notes 

that  Cupid  loved  Psyche,  a  mortal  maiden.  He  visited  her  at 
night  with  strict  instructions  that  she  should  make  no  effort  to  dis- 
cover who  he  was.  Her  curiosity  led  her  to  disobey,  and  in  hold- 
ing a  lamp  over  his  body,  she  dropped  hot  oil  on  his  shoulder, 
woke  him;  and  he  fled.  Psyche  wandered  through  all  lands,  search- 
ing for  her  lover,  and  was  cruelly  persecuted  by  Venus.  At  last  she 
was  made  immortal  and  united  to  Cupid.  The  treatment  given  to 
this  story  by  Walter  Pater  in  Marius  the  Epicurean  is  remarkably 
close  to  the  spirit  of  that  by  Apuleius. 

1019.  Love  Virtue;   she  alone  is  free.     See  Ben  Jonson's 
Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue  : 

"  There,  there  is  Virtue's  seat : 
Strive  to  keep  her  your  own ; 
'Tis  only  she  can  make  you  great, 
Though  place  here  make  you  known." 

Also  Spenser's  The  Teares  of  the  Muses  (Calliope),  1.  457: 

"  Therefore  the  nurse  of  vertue  I  am  hight, 
And  golden  Trompet  of  eternitie, 
That  lowly  thoughts  lift  up  to  heaven's  hight, 
And  mortall  men  have  powre  to  deifie ; 
Bacchus  and  Hercules  I  raisd  to  heaven, 
And  Charlemaine  amongst  the  Starris  seaven." 


LYCIDAS 

i.  Yet  once  more.  There  seems  little  reason  for  finding  any 
peculiar  or  biographical  significance  in  this  phrase.  The  reference 
is  quite  as  much  to  the  fact  that  Milton  is  another  in  the  long  list 
of  aspirants  to  the  laurel  as  that  it  is  three  years  since  he  had 
written  Comus.  The  student  should  compare  the  phrase  and  verse 
structure  of  this  opening  with  that  of  Spenser's  AstropheL 

8.    Lycidas.     A  name  used  in  pastorals  by  Virgil,  Ovid,  Theoc- 
ritus. 


Lycidas  171 


10.  He  knew.  King  wrote  Latin  verses,  but  the  compliment 
implied  seems  somewhat  empty  at  the  hands  of  Milton. 

n.  Rhyme.  This  spelling  does  not  appear  before  1550.  The 
Old  English  rim  meant  number.  See  also  Spenser's  Ruines  of 
Rome,  xxv : 

"  I  would  assay  with  that  which  in  me  is 
To  builde,  with  levell  of  my  loftie  style 
That  which  no  hands  can  evermore  compyle." 

13.  Welter.     Old  English  wealtan,  to  roll  around.     See  walk, 
"waltz. 

14.  Melodious  tear.      See  Spenser's  title   to  his  poem,    The 
Teares  of  the  Muses. 

15.  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well.    The  Pierian  Spring  at   the 
foot  of  Olympus  in  Thessaly,  the  birthplace  and  home  of  the  nine 
muses,  daughters  of  Zeus  and  Mnemosyne.     Milton  was  mindful  of 
Spenser's  The  Teares  of  the  Muses,  1.  I : 

"  Rehearse  to  me,  ye  sacred  Sisters  nine, 
The  golden  brood  of  great  Apolloes  wit, 
Those  piteous  plaints  and  sorrowful  sad  tine 
Which  tale  ye  powred  forth  as  ye  did  sit 
Beside  the  silver  Springs  of  Helicone, 
Making  your  musick  of  hart-breaking  mone. " 

28.    Greyfly.   The  horse-fly,  or  cleg. 

34.  Satyrs  .  .  .  Fauns.  Satyr,  a  monster,  half  man,  half  goat. 
Faun,  a  rural  deity,  sometimes  confused  with  satyrs.  Originally 
the  faun  had  a  human  form,  but  with  short  goat's  tail,  pointed  ears, 
and  small  horns;  later  they  were  represented  with  the  hind  legs  of 
a  goat. 

36.  Damcetas.  A  herdsman  figuring  in  the  Pastorals  of  Theoc- 
ritus and  of  Virgil. 

40.  Gadding.  Rambling  idly.  See  Romeo  and  Juliet,  iv.  2.  16. 
See  also  gad-fly. 

46.   Taint-worm.     Possibly  a  small  red  spider,  hurtful  to  cattle. 

52.   The  steep.     The  hill. 


1 72  Notes 

53.  Druids.     Priests  or  ministers  of  Celtic   religion   in   Gaul, 
Ireland,  and  Britain.     Their  chief  seats  were  in  Wales,  Brittany, 
and  France. 

54.  Mona.    The  Roman  name  for  the  island  of  Anglesey.     See 
Leconte  de  Lisle's  Le  Massacre  de  Mona. 

55.  Deva.     Chester,  on  the  river  Dee,  was  the  port  from  which 
Edward  King  sailed.     Spenser  and  Drayton  describe  the  river  as 
the  home  of  magicians. 

58.  What  could  the  Muse.  Orpheus,  son  of  the  muse  Calliope,, 
offended  the  Thracian  women  by  his  stubborn  grief  for  Eurydice.^ 
They  tore  him  to  pieces  in  their  Bac^hajialiajn_rites.  The  Muses 
buried  his  body  at  the  foot  of  Olympus,  his  head  was  thrown  into 
the  Hebrus,  which  carried  it  to  Lesbos,  where  it  rested.  See  Para- 
dise Lost,  vii.  32-39. 

64.  Alas !  what  boots  it  with  incessant  care.  See  Spenser's 
The  Teares  of  the  Muses  (Calliope),  1.  445  : 

"  What  bootes  it  then  to  come  from  glorious 
Forefathers,  or  to  have  been  nobly  bredd  ? 
What  oddes  twixt  Irus  and  old  Inachus, 
Twixt  best  and  worst,  when  both  alike  are  dedd ; 
If  none  of  neither  mention  should  make, 
Nor  out  of  dust  their  memories  awake  ? 
Or  who  would  ever  care  to  doo  brave  deed, 
Or  strive  in  vertue  others  to  excell, 
If  none  should  yeeld  him  his  deserved  meed, 
Due  praise,  that  is  the  spur  of  dooing  well  ? 
For  if  good  were  not  praised  more  than  ill, 
None  would  choose  goodnes  of  his  owne  free  will." 

66.  And  strictly  meditates  the  thankless  Muse.  This  use  of 
verbs  commonly  intransitive  as  transitive  is  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  Milton.  Freedom  in  this  respect  is  a  poetic  privilege.  Shake- 
speare and  Spenser  take  all  sorts  of  liberties  with  the  "  parts  of 
speech."  Examples  from  Spenser  are : 


Lycidas  173 


The  Teares  of  the  Muses  (Calliope),  1.  436:      "  That  doth  degenerate 
the  noble  race." 

1.  463 :    "  But  now  I  will  my  golden  Clarion  rend, 
1.  464 :     "  And  will  henceforth  immortalize  no  more." 
1.  421 :     "  To  whom  shall  I  my  evill  case  complaine." 

The  Teares  of  the  Muses  (Polyhymnia),  1.  582:    "  That  her  eternize 
with  their  heavenlie  writs!  " 

Ruines  of  Rome,  xiv : 

"  And  as  at  Troy  most  dastards  of  the  Greekes, 
Did  brave  about  the  corpes  of  Hector  colde." 

68.  Amaryllis.     A  shepherdess  in  the  Idyls  of  Theocritus  and 
the  Eclogues  of  Virgil. 

69.  Nesera.     A  maiden  of  classic  pastoral  poetry.     See  Burton's 
translation  of  Marullus,  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3,  Sec.   2, 
Mem.  3,  Subs.  I : 

"  So  thy  white  neck,  Neaera,  me  poor  soul 
Doth  scorch,  thy  cheeks,  thy  wanton  eyes  that  roll: 
Were  it  not  for  my  dropping  tears  that  hinder 
I  should  be  quite  burnt  up  forthwith  to  cinder." 

See  ibid.,  Ariosto,  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3,  Sec.  2,  Mem.  3, 
Subs.  I : 

"  He  that  commends  Phyllis,  or  Neasra, 
Or  Amaryllis,  or  Galatea, 
Tityrus,  or  Melibaea,  by  your  leave, 
Let  him  be  mute,  his  Love  the  praises  have." 

75.  The    blind    Fury.     Atropos.     See    Spenser's   Ruines  of 
Rome,  xxiv : 

11  If  the  blinde  Furie,  which  warres  breedeth  oft." 

78.  Fame  is  no  plant.    See  Spenser's  The  Teares  of  the  Muses 
(Urania),  1.  524: 

"  How  ever  yet  they  mee  despise  and  spight, 
I  feede  on  sweet  contentment  of  my  thought, 


174  Notes 


And  please  my  selfe  with  mine  owne  selfe-delight, 
In  contemplation  of  things  heavenlie  wrought; 
So,  loathing  earth,  I  looke  up  to  the  sky, 
And,  being  driven  hence,  I  thether  fly." 

79.  Nor  in  the  glistering  foil.  See  Burton's  use  of  the  word 
glistering.  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  2,  Sec.  3,  Mem.  3 :  "  Some 
he  doth  exalt,  prefer,  bless  with  worldly  riches,  honours,  offices, 
and  preferments,  as  so  many  glistering  stars  he  makes  to  shine 
above  the  rest."  The  Old  English  verb  glisnian  is  the  form  that 
should  regularly  give  a  verb  glisen,  but  the  word  is  spelled  with  an 
excrescent  t.  This  /,  however,  is  not  sounded,  unless  its  influence 
in  keeping  the  s  hard  may  be  considered  a  sound  by  courtesy.  See 
Spenser's  Virgil'' s  Gnat,  1.  99,  100: 

"  Ne  glistering  of  golde,  which  underlayes 
The  summer  beames,  doe  blinde  his  gazing  eye." 

85.  0  fountain  Arethuse.    The  Muse  of  pastoral  poetry  had 
her  home  by  the  fountain  of  Arethusa  in  Sicily.     Allusion  is  also  to 
Theocritus  as  a  writer  of  pastorals. 

86.  Smooth-sliding  Mincius.      A  river  in  Italy  near  which 
Virgil  was  born.     See  Virgil's  Eclogue,  vii.     See  also  Spenser's  Vir- 
giVs  Gnat,  1.  17: 

"  He  shall  inspire  my  verse  with  gentle  mood, 
Of  Poets  Prince,  whether  he  woon  beside 
Faire  Xanthus  sprincled  with  Chimaeras  blood, 
Or  in  the  woods  of  Astery  abide ; 
Or  whereas  Mount  Parnasse,  the  Muses  brood, 
Doth  his  broad  forhead  like  two  homes  divide, 
And  the  sweete  waves  of  sounding  Castaly 
With  liquid  foote  doth  slide  downe  easily." 

87.  But  now  my  oat.     Old   English  ate,  pi.  atan.    A  cereal 
plant.    In  secondary  sense,  a  musical  pipe  of  oat  straw7;  figuratively, 
pastoral  song. 

89.  The  Herald  of  the  Sea.    Triton. 


Lycidas  175 

96.  Hippotades.    ./Eolus,  the  wind  god,  son  of  Hippota. 

99.   Panope.     One  of  the  Nereids. 

101.   Built  in  the  eclipse.     See  Paradise  Lost,  ii,  665,  666: 

..."  the  labouring  moon 
Eclipses  at  their  charms." 

Also  Paradise  Lost,  \.  597 : 

..."  from  behind  the  moon, 
In  dim  eclipse,  disastrous  twilight  sheds 
On  half  the  nations,  or  with  fear  of  change 
Perplexes  monarchs."  /  

103.  Next  Camus.  The  genius  of  the  river  Cam  and  of  Cam- 
bridge University. 

1 06.  Sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe.  The  hyacinth. 
On  the  petals  appear  marks  interpreted  by  the  Greeks  as  ai,  ai, 
alas!  alas! 

109.  The  Pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake.  St.  Peter.  See  Ruskin's 
Sesame  and  Lilies. 

112.  Mitred    locks.      The  mitre    is  the  symbol  of  episcopal 
authority.     St.  Peter  is  the  head  and  chief  bishop  of  the  church. 

113.  How  well  could  I  have  spared.    See  on  this  general  sub- 
ject Spenser's  The  Shepheards  Calender  (Maye,  Julye,  September). 
See  also  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I, 
Subs.  3 :    "In  our  days  we  have  a  new  scene  of  superstitious  Im- 
posters  and  Hereticks,  a  new  company  of  Actors,  of  Antichrists, 
that  great  Antichrist  himself ;  a  rope  of  Popes,  that  by  their  great- 
ness and  authority  bear  down  all  before  them  ;  who. from  that  time 
they  proclaimed  themselves  universal  Bishops,  to  establish  their 
own   kingdom,  sovereignty,  greatness,  and   to   enrich   themselves 
brought  in  such  a  company  of  human  traditions  .  .  ."     Pt.  3,  Sec.  4, 
Mem.  2,  Subs.  2 :    "  All  their  study  is  to  please,  and  their  god  is  their 
commodity,  their  labour  to  satisfy  their  lusts,  and  their  endeavours  to 


ij6  Notes 

their  own  ends.  .  .  .  They  have  Esau's  hands,  and  Jacob's  Voice; 
yea  and  many  of  those  holy  Friars,  sanctified  men  .  .  .  They  are 
wolves  in  sheep's  clothing.  .  .  ." 

Pt.  3,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  2 :  "  His  ordinary  instruments  or 
factors  which  he  useth,  as  God  himself  did  good  Kings,  lawful  Mag- 
istrates, patriarchs,  prophets,  to  the  establishing  of  his  Church,  are 
Politicians,  Statesmen,  Priests,  Hereticks,  blind  guides,  Impostors, 
pseudo-prophets  to  propagate  his  superstition.  .  .  . 

"  Now  for  their  authority,  what  by  auricular  Confession,  satisfac- 
tion, penance,  Peters  keys,  thunderings,  excommunications,  etc.  .  .  . 

"And  if  it  were  not  yet  enough  by  Priests  and  Politicians  to 
delude  mankind,  and  crucify  the  souls  of  men,  he  hath  more  actors 
in  his  Tragedy,  more  Irons  in  the  fire,  another  Scene  of  Hereticks, 
factions,  ambitious  wits,  insolent  spirits,  Schismaticks,  Impostors, 
false  Prophets,  blind  guides,  that  out  of  pride,  singularity,  vain 
glory,  blind  zeal,  cause  much  more  madness  yet,  set  all  in  uproar  by 
their  new  doctrines,  paradoxes,  figments,  crotchets,  make  new  divi- 
sions, subdivisions,  new  sects,  oppose  one  superstition  to  another, 
commit  Prince  and  subjects,  brother  against  brother,  father  against 
son,  to  the  ruin  and  destruction  of  a  common-wealth,  to  the  dis- 
turbance of  peace,  and  to  make  a  general  confusion  of  all  estates." 

122.  What  recks  it  them?    The  impersonal  use  of  the  verb  from 
the  Old  English  recan,  to  care.    Here  it  means,  as  in  Comus,  1.  404, 
concerns. 

123.  List.     This  was  in  general  use  by  Spenser,  Burton,  and 
other  writers  familiar  to  Milton  in  his  reading. 

124.  Scrannel.     This  word  is  clearly  dialectical.     See  scrawny. 
128.   The  grim  wolf.     There  seems  little  need  of  forcing  the 

interpretation  closely  here.  Milton  is  describing  the  evils  of  care- 
less herding.  The  wolf  was  one  of  the  traditional  enemies  of  the 
flock  and  was  a  danger  whether  in  the  guise  of  a  Pope  or  of  an  Arch- 
bishop Laud.  There  might  also  have  been  a  literary  reminiscence 
of  the  Kidde  and  the  Foxe  in  Spenser's  Shepheards  Calender  (May). 
Irresponsibility  is  always  an  enemy  of  true  religion. 


Lycidas  177 

130.  But  that  two-handed  engine.     The  inspiration  of  this 
passage  is  clearly  found  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3, 
Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  2:    "Now  the  means  by  which,  or  advan- 
tages the  Devil  and  his  infernal  Ministers  take,  so  to  delude  and 
disquiet  the  world  with  such  idle  ceremonies,  false  doctrines,  super- ^ 
stitious  fopperies,  are  from  themselves,  innate  fear,  ignorance,  sim- 
plicity, Hope  and  Fear,  those  two  battering  Canons,  and  "principal . 
Engines,  with  their  objects,  reward   and  punishment,  Purgatory, 
Limbus  Patrum.  etc.  .   .  .     To   these   advantages   of  Hope  and^ 
Fear,  ignorance  and  simplicity,   he   hath   several   engines,   traps, 
devices,  to  batter  and  enthrall.  ..." 

131.  Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more.    See 
Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Pt.  3,  Sec.  4,  Mem.  I,  Subs.  3: 
"  For  it  is  that  great  torture,  that  infernal  plague  of  mortal  man, 
omnium  pestium  pestilentissima  superstitio,  and  able  of  itself  to 
stand  in  opposition  to  all  other  plagues,  miseries,  and  calamities 
whatsoever;   far  more  cruel,  more  pestiferous,  more  grievous,  more 
general,  more  violent,  of  a  greater  extent.    Other  fears  and  sorrows, 
grievances  of  body  and  mind,  are  troublesome  for  the  time;   but 
this  is  for  ever,  eternal  damnation,  hell  itself,  a  plague,  a  fire;   an 
inundation  hurts  one  Province  alone,  and  the  loss  may  be  recovered; 
but  this  superstition  involves  all  the  world  almost,  and  can  never  be 
remedied.     Sickness  and  sorrows  come  and  go,  but  a  superstitious 
soul  hath  no  rest ;   ...  no  peace,  no  quietness.     True  religion  and 
Superstition  are  quite  opposite,  longe  diversa  carnificina  et  pietas, 
as  Lactantius  describes,  the  one  erears,  the  other  dejects ;  .  .  .  the 
one  is  an  easy  yoke,  the  other  an  intolerable  burden,  an  absolute 
tyranny;  the  one  a  sure  anchor,  an  haven;   the  other  a  tempestuous 
Ocean;   the  one  makes,  the  other  mars;  the  one  is  wisdom,  the 
other  is  folly,  madness,  indiscretion;  the  one  unfeigned,  the  other 
a  counterfeit;  the  one  a  diligent  observer,  the  other  an  ape;  one 
leads  to  heaven,  the  other  to  hell." 

Milton  was  an  extreme  individualist  in  religion,  and  the  picture 
he  draws  of  the  misguided  flock  has  a  long  and  wide  historical 
MILTON'S  MINOR  POEMS — 12 


178  Notes 

application.  No  true  religion  is  intended  by  it,  and  all  false  doc- 
trine, envy,  and  schism,  wherever  met,  is  covered  by  it. 

132.  Return,  Alpheus.  The  lover  of  Arethusa.  This  alludes, 
figuratively,  to  the  almost  forgotten  claims  of  pastoral  poetry. 

138.  Swart  star.  Sinus,  the  dog  star.  Swart  is  the  Old 
English  sweart,  black.  Compare  sordid. 

142.  The  rathe  primrose.  See  Ruskin,  Modern  Painters,  ii.,  for 
an  interesting  criticism  on  this  passage.  The  proper  form  should 
preserve  an  initial  h,  hrath,  quick,  ready,  swift.  Here  the  word 
means  early. 

150.  Daffadillies.    Asphodil.    The  corrupt  form  has  a  certain 
pathos  that  the  classic  name  might  lack. 

151.  Laureate    hearse.     Hearse  meant   originally  a  kind  of 
pyramidal  candlestick  used  in  the  services  of  holy  week.    Then 
it   became   the   name  of  the   funeral   carriage.     Laureate  means 
crowned  with  laurel.     See  Spenser's  Daphndida,  1.  526: 

"  And  ye,  faire  Damsels  !    Shepheards  dere  delights, 
That  with  your  loves  do  their  rude  hearts  possesse, 
When  as  my  hearse  shall  happen  to  your  sightes, 
Vouchsafe  to  deck  the  same  with  Cyparesse." 

151.   Lycid.     Lycidas. 

156.  Stormy  Hebrides.  Islands  west  of  Scotland,  the  Ebudae 
of  Ptolemy,  or  the  Hebrides  of  Pliny. 

1 60.  Bellerus  old.     A  legendary  Cornish  giant.     His  home  was 
supposed  to  be  Land's  End. 

161.  The  guarded  mount.      See    Spenser's    The  Shepheards 
Calender  (Julye)  : 

"  In  evill  houre  thou  hentest  in  hond 

Thus  holy  hylles  to  blame, 
For  sacred  unto  saints  they  stond, 

And  of  them  han  theyr  name. 
St.  Michels  Mount  who  does  not  know, 

That  wardes  the  Westerne  coste  ?  " 


Lycidas  179 


162.   Namancos.    Aumantia,  a  town  in  Old  Castile,  Spain. 

162.  Bayona.    Bayonne. 

173.  Of  Him  that  walked  the  waves.  See  Matthew  xiv.  22 
et  seq. 

176.   Unexpressive.    Used  here  in  the  sense  of  inexpressible. 

181.  And  wipe  the  tears.    See  Revelation  vii.  17;  xxi.  4. 

186.  Uncouth.  Old  English  un,  not,  and  cutk,  known;  past 
participle  of  cunnan,  to  know.  See  Lowland  Scotch  unco.  The 
meaning  is  variously :  strange,  unusual,  odd,  lonely,  solitary. 

1 88.  Stops  of  various  quills.     Quills,  a  cane  or  reed  pipe,  such 
as  were  used  in  Pan's  pipes.     See  Spenser's  The  Shepheards  Cal- 
ender (June),  "  homely  shepheards  quill,"  and  Daphna'ida,  iii,  "Ne 
ever  shepheard  sound  his  oaten  quill."  .  .  . 

189.  Doric  lay.     A  song  or  poem  in  the  language  of  the  Dorians. 
This  dialect  was  characterized  by  broadness  and  hardness  and  was 
contrasted  with  Lydian  and  Ionian.    It  was  also  the  pastoral  dialect. 

190.  And  now.     It  was  customary  to  close  pastorals  with  some 
reference  to  time  and  seasons  in  nature.      See  Virgil's  Eclogues. 
Also  Spenser's  The  Shepheards  Calender  (Januarie)  : 

"  By  that,  the  welked  Phcebus  gan  availe 
His  weary  waine ;  and  nowe  the  frosty  Night 
Her  mantle  black  through  heaven  gan  overhaile ; 
Which  scene,  the  pensife  boy,  halfe  in  despight, 
Arose,  and  homeward  drove  his  sonned  sheepe, 
Whose  hanging  heads  did  seeme  his  carefull  case  to  weepe.' 

But  the  energy  of  Milton's  reference  to  the  future  is  character- 
istic rather  than  conventional.  Although  Phineas  Fletcher,  in  The 
Purple  Island,  vi.  78,  has : 

"  Home,  then,  my  lambs;  the  falling  drops  eschew; 
To-morrow  shall  ye  feast  in  pastures  new." 


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author's  long  experience  as  a  director  in  astronomical  observ- 
atories and  in  teaching  the  subject  has  given  him  unusual 
qualifications  and  advantages  for  preparing  an  ideal  text-book. 

The  noteworthy  feature  which  distinguishes  this  from  other 
text-books  on  Astronomy  is  the  practical  way  in  which  the 
subjects  treated  are  reenforced  by  laboratory  experiments 
and  methods.  In  this  the  author  follows  the  principle  that 
Astronomy  is  preeminently  a  science  of  observation  and 
should  be  so  taught. 

By  placing  more  importance  on  the  physical  than  on  the 
mathematical  facts  of  Astronomy  the  author  has  made  every 
page  of  the  book  deeply  interesting  to  the  student  and  the 
general  reader.  The  treatment  of  the  planets  and  other 
heavenly  bodies  and  of  the  law  of  universal  gravitation  is 
unusually  full,  clear,  and  illuminative.  The  marvelous  dis- 
coveries of  Astronomy  in  recent  years,  and  the  latest  advances 
in  methods  of  teaching  the  science,  are  all  represented. 

The  illustrations  are  an  important  feature  of  the  book. 
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Birds  of  the  United  States 

A  Manual  for  the  Identification  of  Species  East  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains 

BY  AUSTIN   C.   APGAR 

Author  of  •*  Trees  of  the  Northern  United  States,"  etc. 

Cloth,  12mo,  415  pages.     Illustrated.         .         .         .     $2.00 


The  object  of  this  book  is  to  encourage  the  study  of  Birds 
by  making  it  a  pleasant  and  easy  task.  The  treatment,  while 
thoroughly  scientific  and  accurate,  is  interesting  and  popular 
in  form,  and  attractive  to  the  reader, or  student.  It  covers  the 
following  divisions  and  subjects: 

PART  I.     A  general  description  of  Birds  and  an  explana- 
tion of  the  technical  terms  used  by  ornithologists. 
PART  II.     Classification  and  description  of  each  species, 

with  Key. 
PART  III.     The  study  of  Birds  in  the  field,  with  Key  for 

their  identification. 

PART  IV.  Preparation  of  Bird  specimens. 
The  descriptions  of  the  several  species  have  been  prepared 
with  great  care  and  present  several  advantages  over  those  in 
other  books.  They  are  short  and  so  plainly  expressed  that 
they  may  be  recalled  readily  while  looking  at  the  bird.  The 
book  is  copiously  embellished  with  illustrations  drawn  espe- 
cially for  this  work. 


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